


A Walk Through Hell

by haylynn



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst with a Happy Ending, Blood Drinking, Castiel cures Dean, M/M, Mark of Cain, Nightmares, Self-Harm, Slow Burn, Top!Cas, Torture, bottom!Dean, season 10
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-14
Updated: 2014-12-14
Packaged: 2018-03-01 10:50:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 27,557
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2770304
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/haylynn/pseuds/haylynn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“You aren’t an angel, Cas. Not anymore. You gave that up to save me. You once told me that I can’t save everyone. And, well this is similar. You can’t fix all of me. No matter how hard you try.”</p>
<p>“That doesn’t mean I won’t try, though.” Castiel responded.</p>
<p>Dean turned his head to look at Castiel. Their eyes met, and Dean studied the never ending blue of Castiel’s in fascination. “I didn’t say you shouldn’t.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This fanfiction is divergent from what is canon. I wrote the first couple chapters right after the season 9 finale, but didn't get the chance to finish it until season 10 premiered. 
> 
> Pay special attention to the tags, there is some blood play (not in a sexual/kinky way), minor alcohol abuse, explicit self-harm, and some smut.
> 
> Also, Dean is a demon for part of this fic. Please keep in mind that demons are not pleasant creatures. I'll leave it at that. 
> 
> Other than that, enjoy! xx
> 
> (PS: The title is named after the song A Walk Through Hell by Say Anything, which is a hella good song.)

_“When is a monster not a monster?_

_Oh, when you love it.”_

_—        Caitlyn Sieh_

When Metatron told Castiel that Dean Winchester was dead and lifted his silver blade dipped a crimson red, Castiel felt like he was falling once more. He felt the heat run through his veins, the rush of fear and panic in his bones. He wanted to thrash, to let out a ferocious scream of anguish opposite to the joyous shout he emitted when he pulled Dean out of the depths of Hell. He wanted to lunge at Metatron, to feel his blood on his skin and the tendons of flesh on his fingers. He wanted to rip him apart, but more than anything, he wanted to find Dean. To use the last of his grace to save him if that’s what it took.

But he was handcuffed to a chair and luring Metatron to his fall of power. Despite his wicked fantasies of tearing Metatron’s flesh from his bone, he had to remain calm. He had no other option.

The worst part of it all is that Metatron was right. Dean had always been his weakness, his fighting force. Everything he had ever done, starting with his rebellion to follow simple orders so few years ago, was because of Dean Winchester. A man who showed him how to feel, even if it was unintentional.

Castiel was a creature of worship, and when he found that there was no God watching over them, his center of devotion had shifted to the Winchesters. Particularly Dean. Although he hadn’t seen them as Gods, just new allies. Companions. And eventually friends. It had been strange, the way he could never avoid Dean’s calls or deny him anything he wanted. He would die for Dean, over and over, as he had before.

So when Metatron was finally taken down, locked in an indestructible cell in Heaven, Castiel had no idea what to do. He did not join in on the angelic festivities of Heaven being open again. He did not cry out in joy with his brothers and sisters. Instead he waited at the gates. He waited for Dean.

Castiel should have gone to see Sam, but he knew the younger Winchester would either be passed out drunk or vicious with rage. So he waited for Dean instead. He didn’t want to see his torn and beaten body anyway. At least then he would be able to comfort Sam with knowing that Dean was safe in Heaven. Perhaps Castiel could figure out a way to sneak Sam into Heaven, for a reunion of sorts. All the angels were looking to him for leadership, he would be able to swing it.

Days went by, but there was still no sign of the eldest Winchester. Castiel assumed that it would take long, if Dean was anything like his surrogate father Bobby Singer, he wouldn’t go down without a fight. Castiel knew Death would handle Dean’s reaping personally. And Dean knew a trick or two about stalling. Castiel briefly worried about Dean getting caught in the veil. But if so, Castiel would find him. Lead him into the light where he belonged.

Yet, as time continued to go on, Castiel began to feel as though something was indeed wrong. He sent dozens of angels to sweep through Heaven, looking for Dean Winchester. But no sign. It was then, that Castiel knew he would need to see Sam.

Castiel had not expected a fist to connect with his jaw when he popped into the bunker a few days after Dean’s death. But maybe he should have.

Sam Winchester was a drunken mess, wobbly from the alcohol, sweating whiskey and various other strong liquors. He swore at Castiel, hit him, and spat in his face. Castiel took it all without a word, somehow managing to coax Sam into the shower to sober him up.

When he wasn’t drowning in booze, Castiel finally sat down and talked with Sam.

“Where the hell have you been? It’s been _days_ Cas, and you never showed.” Sam bit, glaring at Castiel with so much anger. Castiel shrunk into his seat.

“I am sorry, Sam. Metatron told me that Dean was dead and then almost immediately after was overthrown. His reign is over, Heaven is open again. I’m over my head with responsibility. Everyone wants me to be their leader but I can’t.” Castiel responded.

“Good to see your angel duties are more important than your _best_ friend.” Sam said, glaring hatefully in Castiel’s direction.

“I’ve been awaiting Dean’s arrival in Heaven, Sam. That’s why I was gone. I wanted to come to you with a piece of mind, to mourn with you in peace. I wanted to ensure that Dean Winchester had a safe entry into his Heaven.” Castiel paused when Sam looked up, a bitter expression.

“But he never showed, did he?” Sam asked.

“No, how did you-“

“He’s gone, Cas. I laid his body down onto his bed when we got back, after his…His passing. I tried to summon Crowley, but he didn’t come. And when I went back into Dean’s room, he was gone.” Sam said, reaching for the whiskey bottle. Castiel grabbed it before Sam and frowned.

“What do you mean he’s _gone_?” Castiel could feel the panic arising in his chest. “If he’s not in Heaven, and I’m assuming he’s not in the veil because the reapers would have told me, then where is he?”

“Alive, maybe?” Sam asked, looking at the table with dead eyes. “The blade, that damn blade was gone too.”

Castiel’s head shot up as he took in Sam’s words. The blade was gone? Castiel thought back to everything he knew of the first blade and Cain.

“Sam.” Castiel said abruptly, standing up quickly. “We have to find him. He’s...How did I not see this before?”

“What are you talking about?” Sam asked, standing up as well. He wavered, still tipsy from the whiskey.

“When Cain was first given the Mark of Cain, he was human. But eventually, the burden was too much and he killed himself. He died. But when he came back…” Castiel trailed off, his fists clenching.

“So what does that mean?” Sam tested, stepping towards Castiel who looked like he was on the verge of a panic attack.

“Did you smell sulfur in Dean’s bedroom?” Castiel asked, looking up at Sam.

“Well yeah, I guess. But we did have Crowley here for a while so I’ve gotten used to the smell. Why?” Sam asked warily.

“Sam, what is Cain as of right now? What was he when he gave Dean the mark?” Castiel said, not wanting to say the words himself.

“He was a…Oh fuck.” Sam said, his eyes going wide in shock. “A demon, not just a demon though. A fucking Knight of Hell.”

“Yes.” Castiel responded breathlessly. “And that must mean that Dean….Dean’s a-“

“Don’t you say it.” Sam interrupted. “I…I can’t hear it. We need to just find him, we’ll figure it out.”

“Sam, I don’t think you understand. Dean is a _knight_. He’s powerful, and I will say it. A _demon_. And he’s obviously with Crowley.” Castiel said, looking down at the floor, letting his thoughts organize themselves.

“So? Yeah, he’s with Crowley. I bet he’d been planning for this all along, that dick. Should have killed him months ago.” Sam muttered.

“He could have the key to saving Dean. But the problem is…” Castiel stopped himself.

“What’s the problem?” Sam asked.

“What if Dean doesn’t want to be saved?” Castiel asked, horror in his words. Sam’s eyes widened, and then his eyebrows furrowed.

“That’s ridiculous. This is Dean we’re talking about. He’s the thing we spent our entire life hunting down. He wouldn’t want to stay that way.” Sam said, speaking too quickly as if to reassure himself.

“Sam, just think about it. Demons are just human souls that have been twisted and corrupted over hundreds of years of torture. But Dean, he was not reborn a demon out of pain and suffering. He was the epitome of pain and suffering while human. And now that he’s a demon, better yet a Knight of Hell, he won’t have any of that weighing on his shoulders.” Castiel discussed, stepping towards Sam. “He’s not human anymore. He has no humanity left.”

“We’re going to find him, and we are going to fix him. Even if it kills us both.” Sam said through clenched teeth, stepping towards Cas and looking down at him. Castiel fidgeted under his glare and nodded.

“Of course Sam.” Castiel spoke softly.

In the end, it had been better said than done. Over a course of several weeks, Sam and Cas looked everywhere for Dean. Castiel rounded up his angels, letting them know of what happened to Dean in his attempt to kill Abaddon and Metatron. He set up search parties, reapers and angels looking everywhere. Sam attempted to speak with demons, and by ‘speak’ he usually tried to torture his way to get information. Most demons he conversed with were oblivious, although some had gladly taken a blade to the throat for their new knight.

Castiel had never felt fear when standing in the same room as Sam Winchester before this. But then again he had never seen Sam grieve Dean’s death either. Although he was aware that it has happened before, the way Sam gets dark and crazy for vengeance. The fact that his brother was a demon wasn’t much help either.

And then one day, nearing the end of the second month in search for Dean Winchester, a surprise visit was made.

“Hello Sam. Castiel.” A familiar accented voice said. Sam and Cas were sitting at the library table in the bunker, reading lore. Searching for a way to save Dean if they ever found him.

Sam was up before Cas, lunging towards Crowley with a fiery rage. Castiel was frozen in his chair, unable to move because unlike Sam, he had noticed the familiar face standing directly behind Crowley. A shackled, familiar face.

“Sam!” Cas yelled, forcefully pulling Sam off of the suited, stumpy man. “Get off, he’s here to help.” Castiel managed to wrestle Sam off, silently wishing that his strength was still of an angelic level.

“Cas, are you crazy? That’s the bastard that got Dean killed!” Sam yelled back, pushing Castiel off of him.

“Sam, look!” Castiel said, getting annoyed. He grabbed Sam’s face and pointed it in the direction of where his brother was standing.

“Dean.” Sam whispered.

“Don’t bother, he can’t talk. I had a witch put a silencing spell over him so that I could get the little devil here without him yammering in my ear.” Crowley bit, standing off of the floor. “Good to see you too, moose.”

“What the hell is going on?” Sam demanded, gesturing to Dean. Dean, who was covered in shackles and chains, looking unamused and vaguely annoyed.

“I can’t handle him anymore.” Crowley said, looking over at Dean with disdain.

“You’re the one who made him however he is. What’s wrong with him?” Sam asked, glancing at Dean but returning his gaze to Crowley.

“I’ll admit, Sam, when I informed Dean about the mark I never intended for this to happen. I need you to believe me. I had no idea it would turn him into a knight if he were to be killed, until it was too late. And when his death came, I did take him. I thought I would be able to control him, turn him into my own personal soldier. But I was wrong.” Crowley looked over at Dean. “The damn thing’s a pain in my ass. If you thought your brother was a self-absorbed, sin-bathed human, it is only so much worse now that he’s a demon.”

“What do you plan on doing with him?” Sam asked warily.

“Well first of all, I’m intimately familiar with your dungeon trap down stairs. It would be a very useful place to store him. He’s a mouthy little shit, so I got that witch to put a spell on him. It’ll only last a few more hours though.” Crowley said, walking towards the half empty bottle of whiskey on the table. He grimaced at it.

“So what do you want us to do? Do you have a way to fix him? We can’t just lock him in a dungeon for the rest of his immortal life.” Sam chided.

“I have theories about ways to cure him, but I know someone who could confirm them.” Crowley said, a smirk growing on the lower half of his face.

Castiel half-listened to their conversation, slowly walking towards Dean while trying not to be seen. He recognized the marks on the chains, devil’s traps and various sigils that would harness in Dean’s power. Dean still looked bored, glancing around the bunker. He looked as though he couldn’t give two shits about what was going on. When Castiel was only a few steps away from Dean, a floor board creaked and his stealth ended up being for nothing. Dean’s head snapped up and over, eyes connecting with Castiel’s instantly. And then they flushed black.

Castiel never gave much thought to Dean’s ability to change the color of his eyes. He honestly didn’t think it would do more than aggravate him. But when Dean’s eyes snapped black, Cas could see _Dean_. The once beautiful energetic light that shimmered and glowed in righteousness, the same soul that he resurrected from Hell and delicately rebuilt, was now a filmy black smoke. It squirmed and twisted, pushing and writhing inside of Dean’s skin and behind his eyes.

What was more surprising than Castiel seeing _Dean_ , was the reaction that followed. Castiel felt something twist and snap inside of him, and he couldn’t stop himself before his knees were connecting to the floor and his breathing was erratic.

“Cas!” Sam called from across the room, sprinting across to Castiel’s side. Castiel was gasping for breath, tears pouring down his cheeks. His stomach churned, and his head was light.

“Dwindling grace not doing a whole lot for you there, huh Castiel?” Crowley asked from above. “I’m fairly certain angels don’t have anxiety attacks. Has it been getting worse, Sam?”

“This has never happened before, but sometimes he’ll sneeze or cough. Basic human things. He occasionally eats and sleeps. The only think that is worrying is the nosebleeds.” Sam responded, and as if on cue, blood started gushing out of Castiel’s nose. Castiel choked back sobs as he watched the blood from his nose puddle onto the floor. Cas felt dizzy, breathing still erratic even as Sam rubbed at his back and accepted the tissue Crowley offered to help wipe at the blood at his nose.

“Are you alright?” Sam asked, continuing to try and comfort his friend.

“Him…” Castiel breathed out, gasping still. He looked up at Dean, who was staring down at Castiel with calm curiosity and shock that made Castiel flinch and let out a wet sob. “His soul.”

Castiel couldn’t manage anything more out, but Sam helped seat him in a chair to rest. “What about his soul? He’s a demon, Cas. What did you expect?” Sam asked, voice still soft.

“I don’t…I don’t know. It’s so much different now. Just…Shocked me. I think.” Castiel managed to say through tears, looking up at Dean with so much fear and pain. His normal breathing pattern was returning, thankfully. Sam squinted down at Castiel, then looked up at Dean who was staring at Castiel with eyes that could only be described as infatuated.

“What the hell?” Sam muttered. Even as a demon and an almost human, Dean and Castiel could still look at each other like they were having some deep mental conversation.

At Sam’s words, Dean looked up, smirking evilly. His eyes were still ebony, and Sam just clenched his jaw. That…That thing wearing his skin was not the Dean Sam knew.

“Let’s get him to the trap.” Sam sighed, looking up at Crowley who was watching Dean and Castiel stare at each other. “What, you joining in on the staring contest too?”

“No…I was just thinking. Yes, let’s get him in there before he can talk again. The mouth on that one…” Crowley trailed off, grabbing Dean harshly and dragging him along with Sam. Dean’s eyes stayed on Castiel the entire time he walked away.

Castiel held the tissues up to his nose to try and sustain the building. He felt empty, exposed, and exhausted. When Dean’s eyes turned black, it was as though Castiel had been dragged kicking and screaming into the darkness. He saw the _thing_ inside of Dean, the twisted thing that _was_ Dean. And the pain was damn near the same to the night when Metatron told him that Dean was dead. That ripping feeling in his chest. But this time, it wasn’t his heart that was torn. It was his very soul.

Sam returned about ten minutes later, getting a glass of water and placing it down in front of Castiel. “Remember what I said, Cas? If you’re becoming human again, you gotta stay hydrated.”

“Sam, you know I’m not just turning human. I’m dying.” Castiel said, removing the tissues from his nose quick enough to take a drink of water. Crowley walked in a few minutes later.

“How’s everyone feeling?” Crowley asked, mock cheerfulness.

“You should be thankful I don’t lean across this table and rip your throat out.” Sam spat, glaring at Crowley.

“Like I said, Moose. This isn’t all my fault. I had no idea. At least he managed to kill that angry ginger.” Crowley said dryly.

“He might have killed Abaddon, but from what you’ve told us, he’s not much better than she was.” Castiel said, squinting at Crowley over the tissues.

“Oh trust me, he’s not like Abbadon. They both have a thing against authority, but Abaddon was the evil ruler type, where Dean is a free spirit. Chaotic, but not with evil intentions.” Crowley pointed out. He ended up reaching for the whiskey.

“So what, you couldn’t take Dean not listening to you?” Sam asked.

“No, I couldn’t take Dean doing whatever he wanted, wherever he wanted, whenever he wanted. He didn’t give a shit that he was a demon, better yet a knight. He ran around flaunting his abilities, and not wanting to put them to valuable use.” Crowley said simply.

“How much damage has he done?” Sam managed to ask after a few moments.

“A lot. But he’s only basking in the glory of being a heartless dick. Perks of being a demon.” Crowley said, taking a swig of the whiskey and making a disgusted face.

“How many people have died because of him?” Sam gritted through his teeth.

“Enough.” Crowley said, almost solemnly. Castiel almost forgot that Crowley was only a step away from humanity once.

“What are we going to do?” Castiel asked, pulling the bloody tissues away. He was glad to see his nose had finished bleeding.

“That’s a good question, angel. Or can I still call you that?” Crowley asked, smirk pulling at his lips. Castiel glowered at him. “Serious talk for a moment, what is going on with you? That ‘anxiety attack’ wasn’t anything I’ve ever seen before. And furthermore, I haven’t seen Dean so calm and intrigued with something as he was with you, in months.” Crowley leaned towards Cas, Sam watching curiously.

“I wish I knew. What remains of my fading grace is tearing me apart since it isn’t my own. When I fell before, I became human because the grace that I fell from was mine. But this time, it’s not the same.” Castiel looked at the table, feeling uncomfortable suddenly. “As for Dean…I think we saw each other’s true forms.” Castiel lifted his head up to see Crowley and Sam looking at him oddly.

“So, that’s why you fell to your knees? Because you could see his soul? And Dean looked so chilled out from rage because he could see what you really look like?” Sam asked, and Cas shrugged.

“I believe so.” Castiel said, and Crowley rolled his eyes.

“You two are like love struck teens. All mushy and hot for each other, even when you’re dying and Dean’s itching for his next kill.” Crowley said.

“You don’t understand.” Castiel said bitterly, annoyed with Crowley’s teasing and Sam’s judgment. “I raised his soul from Hell, I healed it with my own grace and held it in my _once_ divine hands. I’ve seen it shine in greatness and purity even despite his agony. To see him… To see how dark and sinister his soul has become…”

Castiel trailed off, tracing the beads of condensation that ran down the side of his glass of water. He couldn’t finish that sentence. He didn’t know how. How could Castiel make his words understandable for Sam and Crowley? It was unexplainable. They wouldn’t be able to empathize. But the pain was real and Castiel could feel it burning.

Sam looked at Castiel sadly, and Crowley remained silent. Castiel was surprised at there not being a response.

“So, how can we fix his soul then?” Sam spoke finally.

“That’s an interesting question.” Crowley said, keeping his eyes low.

“What was the theory you said you had?” Castiel asked.

Crowley sat up, letting out a loud sigh and looking over at Castiel and then at Sam. “It’s not so much a theory, but more of a...” Crowley waved his hands around in search for the correct words. “Well, when you’re the King of Hell, you have your resources. I got a bit desperate when chasing after Abaddon and had a few back up plans. But this is also based off of connections made from personal experience.”

“What are you talking about?” Sam asked.

“Dean is not just a demon. He’s a Knight of Hell. And just to add more shit into his toilet, he’s a knight with the _Mark of Cain_.” Crowley said. “Before I knew about Cain and the mark, and Abaddon had me in a metaphorical choke hold over Hell, I figured that if I couldn’t kill her I could try to cure her. If she were human, disposing of her would be much easier, if she survived it. Although, then we heard about the blade and I had a Plan B. You can kill a knight with the blade and mark, but our goal is not to kill Dean is it? We want to save him.”

“Of course we do.” Sam said, trying to gather what Crowley was saying.

“So Sam, break it down with me, how do you cure a regular demon?” Crowley asked.

“Purified human blood.” Sam responded. “But Dean’s not just a demon so that won’t work, will it?”

“No, it won’t.” Crowley said simply. “But that’s where my intelligence comes in.”

“Just tell us already, Crowley.” Castiel bit, getting annoyed.

“Fine. Think of the regular demon cure as a math equation. If you add negative one plus positive one, you get zero. If you invade the impure blood with pure blood, it will cancel out. Pure human blood mixed with demon blood gives you a normal human. Do you get it, or will I have to draw a diagram?” Crowley asked, but Sam and Cas just rolled their eyes. “Except, the only problem with the cure is that, then you’re just left with a possibly dead vessel and a traumatized demon-soul-turned-human-soul. It’s different for every scenario, but the new human is most likely trapped in a state of paralysis inside a damaged body that’s not theirs.”

“Thanks for reinstating what we already knew.” Castiel said cynically.

“Digging the sarcasm, Cas. But I have a point.” Crowley said before continuing. “That’s how it usually goes for _regular_ demons. Dean is a knight, so his blood is extra juicy with impurities.”

“So, essentially you’re saying he’ll just need a purer form of blood?” Sam asked, not quite convinced.

“That’s exactly what I’m saying.” Crowley said with a smirk. He leaned back against his chair. “And what’s the purest form of blood out there?”

Crowley and Sam both looked over at Castiel at the exact same time. “My blood is anything but pure.” Castiel almost growled.

“Think of it in a metaphorical sense, Castiel. You might be damn near on your deathbed and a disgrace, but you will and always will be an angel. The purest creature to ever walk God’s green Earth. It’s in your blood, even if your grace, which isn’t actually your grace, is almost gone. Your grace and blood are two separate things.” Crowley said, leaning towards Castiel with a proud smile. Castiel just sat there, glaring at Crowley with an unconvinced look.

“Okay, so if Castiel’s blood can cure Dean, will it kill Cas?” Sam asked after a moment of silence.

“If you’re asking because of your near death experience, no. You only almost died because of the three trials as a whole. I’m thinking it should be a relatively painless task. Perhaps draining, but he should be fine.” Crowley said dryly.

“Alright, so my blood might be able to cure him of the demon in him. But what about the mark? How are we supposed to fix that? And what about the fact that he was stabbed to death?” Castiel asked, not truly on board.

“The mark healed his wounds before it turned him. As far as I know, he hasn’t suffered any fatal wounds since then. It shouldn’t be a problem.” Crowley offered, and Castiel nodded. “As for the mark, I have another theory for that.”

“And what’s that?” Castiel asked, squinting at the demon.

“Lucifer created it, correct? It’s demonic, a sinister mark of demon-hood. But Lucifer himself was an angel.” Crowley paused, looking back at Castiel.

“Are you suggesting we resurrect Lucifer again?” Sam interrupted, a panicked look on his face.

“Don’t get your panties in a twist, of course not. I’m not an idiot.” Crowley said, shaking his head at Sam. “I’m suggesting that Castiel is Dean’s only hope of surviving this. His blood can cure the demon. His angelic grace can destroy the mark.”

“Crowley, are you truly that unintelligent? You know I don’t have my grace. The one inside me is not mine, and its fading.” Castiel spit, anger seeping into his words.

“Yes, I am aware of that. But as far as I know, you know who took your grace. And that dick is locked up in angel jail, correct?” Crowley said, smirk still sitting on his face.

Castiel sat back, taking everything Crowley said in. Sam was also deep in thought.

“I almost hate to say it, but that might all work. It’s logical. The only problem, is that if Cas finds his grace, he’ll have to give it to Dean.” Sam looked up at Cas sadly. “And then you’ll die.”

“It’ll be worth it if it can save him. I’ll die proudly to uncorrupt his soul.” Castiel said, pulling his cell phone out of his pocket. “I’m going to call Hannah, have her bring Metatron here so that we can speak with him. He’ll tell us where my grace is and if our plan will work.

Sam and Crowley sat quiet while Castiel conversed with Hannah over the phone. Despite her scolding and blatant lack of faith with Castiel’s idea, she agreed to bring him down as soon as possible.

It was getting late, and Sam and Castiel were exhausted. Crowley stuck around, out of fear that Dean might somehow break free of his chains and escape.

Sam and Castiel did manage to doze off after a few hours of waiting, Castiel sitting at the table and Sam at the couch. They were both awoken by Crowley in the early hours of the morning.

“Dean can talk again. You probably don’t want to speak with him though. He isn’t thrilled to be here.” Crowley said, shaking Sam and Castiel out of their sleep. They both shared a tired look and silently agreed that they were going to ignore what Crowley said and go to Dean anyways.

Sam led Castiel down the stairs to the dungeon, and Castiel’s hands were shaking. Sam held an emotionless face, but Castiel knew the fear was rolling off him like waves. Crowley followed both of them with a bored expression.

“Well hey there Sammy, I thought we’d never get to have our little family reunion.” A deep, under-used voice called out. He sounded like Dean, but there was an edge to his tone. Castiel hung back, not wanting to be seen just yet.

“We’re not here to chat.” Sam said, his voice blank.

“Too bad, I have tons to tell you. These past few weeks have been great. Just like the vacation I always needed.” Dean responded, the edge in his voice growing more evident. “Although you probably wouldn’t have enjoyed it very much, what with the demonic activity and murdering. Fun stuff for me though.”

“I’m sure it was a blast.” Sam responded dryly.

“Sure was. Hey, where is Cas at? Kinda wanna see that poor excuse for an angel again.” Dean growled. “That’s the difference between you and him. When you see me now, you look at me like I’m just another hunt and you’re on the prowl. But _he_ , he falls onto his knees in despair. I’m hurt, Sammy.” Dean mocked.

“It’s because he can’t see you the way I can.” Castiel finally interjects, stepping fully into view. Dean’s head jerked up just as it had the night before, eyes turning black. Sam looked away.

“Well I gotta say,” Dean said, eyes trailing up and down Castiel’s body with hunger. His evil demeanor faded for a moment as a look of contentment and wonder filled his features. “You sure are a sight for sore eyes, aren’t ya’? I mean, your wings alone…”

“I wish I could say the same for you, Dean. But the dark void that’s wrapped around your soul isn’t exactly aesthetically pleasing to me.” Castiel responded monotonously, refusing to look into the darkness again. But Dean wouldn’t have it.

“Come on, Cas. Be the big tough soldier your daddy made you to be. Look at me. Look me in the eyes.” Dean taunted, eyes still reflecting black. “I know I ain’t what I was before but it must be enticing, huh? _Look_ , Cas.”

Castiel was hesitant, but not being able to say no to Dean, he slowly turned, looking right into Dean’s eyes. He had to hold back the whimpering, the darkness pulling him in. Finally, Cas muddled up the strength to turn his sadness and devastation into anger and determination. With a sudden blast of courage, he stepped forward and right into the trap that Dean was set up in.

“You are not the Dean I know. Your soul is tainted and starless, it his filled with sin and corruption. I will not stop until you are fixed.” Castiel leaned down, looking right into Dean’s eyes without a trace of fear. The smell of sulfur filled his nostrils. “Even if it kills me.”

Castiel felt something warm wrap around his wrist, and he looked down to see Dean’s hands had wriggled free of the shackles. His chin was lifted a little too roughly by Dean’s other freed hand, his wrist being squeezed too tightly.

“Don’t. Don’t stop looking into my eyes. _Don’t take your eyes off me_.” Dean growled, voice almost pleading. But it was short lived, and his villainous smirk was on display again. He licked at his lips and leaned in more. “I know you won’t stop. You’ll walk through hell a hundred times over if it means you could save me. But _Castiel_ , this time I’m not broken.” Dean’s voice was low, and Castiel looked right into Dean’s ink-splotched eyes. He squirmed under the gaze and grip, trying to break free as panic ran through his veins like liquid heat. This was too intimate, uncomfortable in every way. They had opened up gate ways through their eyes, exposing their bare souls to one another. Castiel’s form had a calming effect, but Dean’s terrified Castiel.

“Please.” Castiel whispered, eyes still locked on Dean’s with their faces merely an inch away. “Let go of me.”

“Are you afraid?” Dean whispered back, face twisting in confusion. His eyes still remained shadows. His grasp on Castiel’s wrist loosened but did not release, his other hand running through Castiel’s hair. “You shouldn’t be afraid of the darkness, Castiel. I can see inside you too, and even though I know that you’re _dying_ , you’re still so bright. You’re like the sun.” Dean said, his voice surprisingly soft. His sudden tenderness scared Castiel even more now. He was told that Dean was heartless, uncaring, and overall a dick. But he was caressing Castiel’s face and holding his wrist gently. He was even trying to comfort Castiel.

“I am afraid.” Castiel paused. “Because I might be the sun, but I’m a fading star and I don’t know if I will be able to save you. But I will try. I promise you that, Dean. I’m not going to leave you like this.”

Castiel pulled his arm away from Dean roughly and turned his head to break the eye contact. Dean flinched as Castiel’s true form snapped shut in his face and left his eyes burning. Castiel stood up straight, walking out of the devils trap. Dean sat silent, arm still midair from where Castiel’s face had once been.

Sam and Crowley’s jaws were practically on the floor, completely shocked at what they just witnessed. Dean’s fists clenched and he gave Castiel one last look of longing before Castiel walked out of the dungeon. Sam and Crowley followed slowly, shutting the door and sharing a look of utter amazement at the fact that Dean was just sitting there quietly and equally confused.

Castiel was sitting in Dean’s room, wanting to remain undisturbed for the remainder of his time. He knew he was most likely going to die to save Dean. All he wanted was some peace.

Crowley and Sam gave him that much, and they waited for Hannah to arrive with Metatron, and possible instructions and information on the cure.

Dean, for the first time in weeks, remained silent.


	2. Chapter 2

_“I look at you and see all the ways a soul can bruise, and I wish I could sink my hands into your flesh and light lanterns along your spine so you know that there’s nothing but light when I see you.”_

_—        Shinji Moon, The Anatomy of Being_

“So, I’ve been told that my attempt at killing Dean Winchester was futile.” Metatron said lazily from where he sat, hand cuffed and shackled to a bunker chair. “Although the outcome is one that I expected when I drove my angel blade into his chest.”

Sam had to step in front of Castiel so that he wouldn’t lunge at Metatron. “Yes well, I’m sure you must be happy with yourself. We just need some information.” Sam said.

“I’m assuming the information you’re asking for is a way to save Dean?” Metatron asked.

“Yes.” Castiel said, voice monotone.

“And if I help, what will my reward be?” Metatron looked around with his annoying smile that made everyone uncomfortable.

“Your life.” Castiel responded, stepping forward and sticking his blade against Metatron’s throat.

Metatron let out a nervous laugh. “Alright, I’m fine with these conditions.”

“Good, wouldn’t want to have to make a compromise.” Crowley said from across the room. The several angels standing in the bunker flinched and cowered at his voice. But Crowley wasn’t fucking with angels today.

“How can I help?” Metatron asked, smile still as uncomforting as ever.

“Dean is a knight now and has the Mark of Cain, can he be cured?” Sam asked, stepping forward in front of Metatron.

“From being a knight? Yes, but you already knew that. Angel blood _should_ suffice.” Metatron looked over at Castiel who was scowling in his direction. “Especially his. There’s a connection between those two.” Metatron winked and Castiel held back the urge to ‘accidentally’ slip and slide the blade into his throat.

“What about the mark?” Sam continued, ignoring Metatron’s comment. “Can that be destroyed?”

Metatron leaned back slightly in his chains, thinking for a moment. “Well, you see the thing about that is-“

“Straight answers, Metatron. Or Crowley gets to take you to the basement and dig them out of you.” Hannah spoke, pressing the tip of her angel blade onto his neck. She was on edge, being around a demon and having Metatron out of Heaven. Castiel didn’t know if he would ever be able to thank her for this.

Metatron blinked, turning back to Crowley, Sam, and Castiel. “There’s only one Mark of Cain. And it’s on Dean. It’s never been destroyed, obviously. But seeing as it’s basically a demon’s version of angel grace, it should essentially work just like the demon cure, but with angelic grace rather than blood.”

“I’m impressed, Crowley. You were actually right for once.” Sam said, looking at Crowley with minor approval. But then it was gone and Sam was serious again.

“We can use my blood.” Castiel said, looking at the ground as he sorted his thoughts. “That isn’t the problem. It’s the grace that might be an issue.”

“How so?” Hannah asked.

“I could never ask another angel to use their grace to heal him, it’s too much of sacrifice. I would use the one inside me, but it’s deadly.” Castiel said, still looking around in concentration.

Metatron’s head turned to Castiel. “Your stolen grace has turned into poison. It’s killing you, and if you feed it to Dean it will kill him as well.”

“So, how do we ensure that neither of them gets killed?” Sam asked.

“Sam, I’m more worried about Dean at this point. The path that I’m following right now is leading to death anyways. I’ve been able to reside with that. And after all the pain and suffering I’ve caused, I see no need to go out of our way to make sure that I live. That’s not my concern.” Castiel admits, not looking at anyone.

 “Cas, don’t say that. Have you not learned anything from me and Dean? Sacrifice isn’t always a good thing when you’re leaving someone behind who cares about you. How do you think Dean’s going to feel when he’s human again? He’ll be able to _feel_ again, for one thing. He’ll probably be in a shit mood because of the things he did as a demon. He’ll need you, and you won’t be there.” Sam said, placing his hand on Cas’ shoulder. “You can’t do that to him. We have to find a way for both of you.”

“Sam…” Castiel almost pleaded. In truth, he was just tired. Tired of hurting the people around him. A part of him wanted to die because of his horrible habit of ruining things.

“There might be a way.” Metatron said plainly. “You could use Castiel’s old grace. Have him ingest it again. He’ll be an angel briefly, and it will wash out the poisons of the stolen grace. Then he can transfer it to Dean. It will probably involve him getting injured so that the grace can be purged from his body, but there are a half-dozen angels in here who can heal him after. Then Castiel and Dean will both just be human.”

“Wait, are you being serious?” Sam asked incredulously.

“Yes. I believe that it could work.” Metatron said. It was odd that he seemed neutral at the moment.

“Great plan, except for the fact that Metadouche took Castiel’s grace and used it in a spell to make the angels fall.” Crowley said, looking at everyone like they were crazy.

“Crowley has a point. I don’t have my grace.” Castiel said sadly.

“I do, or I did. It’s somewhere in my office.” Metatron said nonchalantly.

“You’ve had it all along?” Castiel said through his teeth, suddenly raging.

“I may have used it for the spell, but it’s not like I destroyed it. You cannot destroy grace, Castiel. I used it, then kept it. Would have made brilliant leverage.” Metatron admits.

Castiel drew out his angel blade once again, but his arm was caught by Hannah and Sam was practically tackling him to the ground. Castiel was writhing and yelling in red rage.

“Cas, fucking stop.” Sam scolded, lifting Cas to his feet and steadying him.

“Sam, he had it all this time!” Castiel snarled, glaring at Metatron.

“I get that, but we need to stay focused here.” Sam comforted. Castiel nodded, standing up straight and keeping his eyes off of Metatron.

“You two, go search in Metatron’s office for Castiel’s grace and bring it here immediately.” Hannah commanded to two lesser angels. Both of them nodded and disappeared.

“Metatron, good to finally make your acquaintance. Impressive what you did with the whole angels-falling bit. Very deceptive, I can respect that even though your poor execution and overall cockiness screwed you in the end.” Crowley stepped forward, putting his hand out to shake Metatron’s but then reeling back when he acknowledged the shackles.

“My intentions are not to impress the likes of you.” Metatron responded unceremoniously.

“Very well. So for this cure, how exactly must it be done?” Crowley asked, taking a seat in the armchair.

“Well, first Castiel should take his grace again. He’ll be a full angel, if only for a brief amount of time. Then to cure the demonic part of Dean, he’ll have to give him a dose of his blood every hour for eight hours. The last time you do it, Dean must ingest a large amount of blood to cancel everything out. This will work rather than reciting an incantation because Castiel is an angel and cannot confess his sins to purify his blood. It is already in its purest form, and in a large dose, it should work fine. I suggest you get him to drink Castiel’s blood directly from the source.” Metatron replied.

“And how do you expect Dean to willingly drink my blood?” Castiel asked sharply.         

“Something tells me you won’t have to work very hard to get close to him.” Metatron said with a smug smile. “It will be a struggle at first, but angel blood is sickly sweet and after the initial battle, you’ll probably find more trouble with him drinking your vessel dry rather than putting up a fight.”

“Easy enough, exactly how much will he need?” Sam asked.

“A lot, you’ll know when he’s had enough when the seizing begins.” Metatron responded tersely.

The room was quiet for a moment, Castiel was pacing nervously. This was a lot to take in. Dean would have be shot up with his blood and then forced to drink it until he was writhing on the ground in pain. Would it be painful? Of course it would be. Going from a demon to a human could not be a pleasurable experience.

Castiel thought back to when he pulled Dean out of Hell. He was so close to becoming a demon then, years of torturing under his belt. And Castiel had healed him. Not that Dean has any memory except for the hand print that once marred his skin.

“What about the Mark of Cain? What are the details behind that?” Castiel asked nervously.

“Well, purging your grace out isn’t easy. It requires a lot of focus, which you’ll be lacking due to seeing Dean in pain and blood loss. It’s least difficult to do when you have experienced an immense amount of pain. It’s easier to dislodge yourself from your vessel, like the flight part in the flight or fight response.” Metatron spoke simply. “The ritual must be done as soon as Dean is cured from being a demon. The fastest way to do so would be to get stabbed, and be touching Dean at the same time so that your grace would transfer to him.”

“Is that even possible? Will they even survive it?” Hannah spoke up in disbelief.

“If Dean is in a vulnerable state and Castiel’s full attention and focus is on Dean, it should be. Castiel should then be healed and return as a human, and Dean will be back to his self-loathing, human self.” Metatron said. Just as he finished, the two angels returned.

They held a small vial, and Castiel couldn’t breathe. It was him, a part of Castiel glowing and reaching out for its owner. Castiel yearned to feel it in his veins again. To fly and soar and heal without feeling so much human pain.

But he remembered Dean. They way Dean could make him feel had no comparison to power. And Castiel was willing to give up his chance at being an angel again for Dean’s humanity any day.

“Then what are we waiting for?” Castiel spoke finally, eyes still on his grace.

“What if Metatron is lying? Are you sure you want to do this, Castiel?” Hannah asked, reaching for the vial and handing it to Castiel.

“Yes. This is what my purpose has always been, saving Dean Winchester. Whether it be from literal Hell, or the Hell inside himself.” Castiel said, bravely looking up at Sam and nodding. Sam smiled softly, still so much fear in his features. Castiel would do this for Sam too.

Everyone made their way to the dungeon downstairs, three lower seraphs standing in the background remaining silent and stoic. Crowley sat down in the chair in the corner of the room, keeping an eye on Dean. Sam pulled up a chair against the wall directly in front of Dean, and Hannah stood near him. Metatron was taken back to Heaven by the other seraphs.

“Well look who got the whole gang together.” Dean said ungraciously, looking at his younger brother with a bitter smirk.

“We’re here to help you.” Sam said curtly.

“I don’t want your damn help! I want to be unchained and let go. I’m happy for once, Sammy. Why is that a bad thing?” Dean asked, anger turning his eyes dark again.

“Because whatever this twisted version of happiness you’re feeling, it’s hurting people. You’re hurting people. You’re not happy, you’re like a druggie on a high. And it needs to stop.” Sam responded, looking Dean directly in his black eyes, unfazed.

“Please, the only people I’m hurting are random-“

“They’re _innocent,_ Dean.” Sam interrupted.

“We kill tons of innocent people while on the job, Sam. Poor possessed people that get stabbed to death by us. Don’t try to pull that self-righteous crap with me.” Dean snapped.

“Whatever, Dean. I’m not arguing this with you. You’re in a room filled with people who want to see you human again. You have no input in this.” Sam said dryly.

Dean almost growled, head snapping around to glare at everyone in the room. He was cornered, and he had no way of escaping.

“I will never forgive you.” Dean spat.

“Dean, it’s been years since our relationship was anywhere near functional. Your forgiveness isn’t exactly something I’m concerned about. I can live with you upset with me as human, not a demon.” Sam said. “Besides, think of this as getting even with you for the whole Gadreel thing.”

“Geez, you still on that?” Dean chuckled darkly. “Talk about holding a grudge.”

“That’s enough. We don’t have all night for your bickering.” Castiel said, entering the room with a freshly sharpened knife, a few towels, syringes, and his angel blade.

“What have you got there? Torturing kit? Kinky, ‘specially with all these people watching. You gonna defile me in front of my own brother?” Dean teased, biting his lip and flashing his eyes black at Cas.

Castiel remained unimpressed, but his hands shook. “Not nearly.”

“Too bad, that would have been interesting.” Dean shot back.

“I wouldn’t get your hopes up.” Castiel said blandly. He pulled out the vial of his grace and showed it to Dean. “I’m just here to turn you human again.”

Dean sat up straight, as if he was trying to keep himself as far away from the vial as possible. His eyes were ink once more.

“You wouldn’t dare. I won’t let you!” Dean snarled.

“As Sam so kindly pointed out, you don’t have much of a choice.” Castiel said. He walked forward, his eyes on his grace. “Can’t you see I’m doing this for you Dean? I’m about to give this up to save you.”

“Then don’t, keep it for yourself and leave.” Dean growled.

“Are you afraid?” Castiel whispered, leaning down so that he and Dean were eye level. “You shouldn’t be afraid of the light, Dean. See, I can see inside you too. And even though I know that your bright, righteous soul is in there somewhere, you’re still surrounded by darkness. You’re like the moon.” Castiel said, his voice soft, but mocking Dean’s earlier words. Dean looked back, mouth and eyes wide with shock and _fear_.

“I’ll rip the light right out of you, you son of a bitch. Don’t you fucking dare, Castiel. Even when I’m human I’ll remember this, and I’ll hate you. I’ll hate you so fucking much if you do this to me, Cas.” Dean snarled, staring at Castiel with hatred and fear. Castiel sighed and stood up, turning to walk away when he felt Dean’s hand grab at his wrist. “Please, Cas. You can’t do this to me. I don’t want to be how I was. I was suffering, couldn’t you see? I drank too much and I was always sad and miserable. I’m free from that now. I can finally breathe and you’re going to make me drown again.” Dean rambled, almost begging now as he tugged at Castiel’s wrist.

Castiel frowned, realizing that Dean had a point. But it didn’t matter. Because what Dean was now, was so much worse than any pain he would feel as a human. “I am sorry, Dean. But you’re hurting people. You’re hurting me. And you’re hurting Sam.”

Dean looked over at Sam with the same hatred that faded into fear. “Don’t do this.” Dean whispered.

Castiel turned around, glancing around the room once more. “Everyone, close your eyes.”

The vial was thrown to the ground, shattering with a loud crack before light flooded the small dungeon. Castiel watched as his grace swirled up from the ground, searching for its home. Castiel invited it in with vigor, feeling the light pour into his mouth and flood his veins. A damn had broken, walls had fallen, and Castiel could _see_ again. The feeling was empowering, and Castiel cried out in joy as his body healed and shaped back into a proper angel. Light snapped forward and remained blinding.

And when it was over, Castiel was standing up taller, a look of content on his face.

“Holy shit.” Sam said, watching as lights flickered and flashed, showing the shadow of Castiel’s wings on the wall. Dean was watching too, fearful but infatuated.

“I feel…” Castiel began, not knowing how to put it into words. “Like myself.”

“That’s great, I’m sure the reunion must tickle you, but there’s still a job to be done.” Crowley reminded.

Castiel blinked a few times, looking back at Dean who was silent. He sighed, but still nodded. “Of course.”

Sam let out a sigh of relief, and Castiel knew he must have been holding his breath, expecting him to take off with his newfound grace. But Castiel had a mission to be completed.

Castiel shrugged off his coat, gently placing it onto the table next to Sam. He rolled up his sleeves and was thankful for having no tie.

“Dean, if it means anything at all, I hope you will be able to forgive me when you are yourself again.” Castiel said, looking down at Dean with a twinge of sadness. Dean glared, completely defeated. The mark on his arm glowed in fury.

Castiel pushed the tip of the syringe directly into his vein, watching as it filled with blood. It was strange how powerful such human-looking blood could be.

Although Dean was struggling still, Castiel didn’t have to do much but move his head to the side and expose the nape of his neck. Everyone watched in anticipation as Castiel injected the first dose of blood.

Dean hissed and growled, snarling and grimacing in pain. His eyes were dark and he glared at Castiel. Castiel didn’t keep eye contact, only pulled himself away from Dean to lean against the wall and wait for the next hour mark.

The hours between the first few doses were pure hell. Dean was fitful, yelling and cursing in fury. It got so bad that Crowley threatened to call back the expert witch, but settled for attempting to duct tape it shut, which didn’t work very well.

“I can’t take this anymore.” Sam said when Dean started going into rage-filled detail of his adventures in hell all those years ago. He was trying to get beneath Sam’s skin, yelling at him for everything and saying the most horrid things. Finally Sam snapped.

“Don’t go. I need you here.” Cas said. He meant it, without Sam he didn’t think he’d be able to continue. Dean said all kinds of things to Castiel too, which eventually caused the other angels to briefly leave the room.

“And what kind of angel are you, _Castiel_?” Dean had spat after the third dose. He talked as though he was drunk. “I mean you sure look like one, but you don’t act like one, never did. You were such a perfect soldier at first, of course. So good at listening and following orders. But you changed. And it was me, wasn’t it? I made you feel things, but tell me _Castiel_ , where did you feel those things?”

Castiel kept his eyes on the floor as he filled the next syringe.

“I remember the night when we first met. You came into the barn and _sparks flew._ Literally, you almost tore the building down. And you presented yourself, showing your junk and trying to impress us. And it worked. I’ll tell you something, Cas. I may have stabbed you in the chest but that wasn’t the only place I wanted to ‘stab’.” Dean grinned evilly, eyes flickering as he spoke.

Castiel stayed silent, stepping towards Dean.

“Have you ever thought of me like that Cas? If I could show you emotions like doubt and reason, I wonder if pleasure could have been another one. But, then again, I was convinced I was strictly into chicks back then. Now, I’m a little more open-minded.” Dean’s eyes followed Castiel.

“Your tactics for wanting to scare me away are useless.” Castiel said dryly.

“Tell me, Cas. When you were human did you ever dream about me? When you shower do you fantasize about me? I mean if you really think about it, all the things you’ve done for me, there must be something you want? I wouldn’t exactly make you out as a pervert but who- AH!” Castiel finally interrupted Dean and injected the fourth dose of his blood. Dean screamed and huffed in pain.

“The only thing I have ever wanted from you is for you to be safe and human.” Castiel said simply.

It wasn’t until the sixth dose that any positive change was visible. After the fifth he had stopped talking and just stared ahead of him. But after the sixth, he spoke again.

“Sammy?” Dean whispered, head lifting as he searched around the room for his brother. Sam stepped forward kneeling in front of his brother.

“Yeah, Dean?” Sam asked, hopeful.

“Would you believe me if I told you that I can still remember mom?” Dean asked, eyes searching for some form of reassurance.

“I would.” Sam responded, smiling at his big brother.

“I do, I remember all sorts of things. Her hair was soft and so pretty and gold. And her skin was like mine, it had freckles but her skin was so much softer. And I remember when she used to hold me she would smell so nice. And…” Dean started gasping, tears gathering in his eyes. “I used to be able to remember what she smelled like, but I can’t anymore. I can’t pick out the exact scent. It all smells like fire.”

“It’s okay, Dean.” Sam comforted.

“No, it’s not.” Dean rasped, eyes leaking and breath heavy. “It’s not okay because I held on to her memory for so long and it’s slipping away and I don’t want to be like Dad, I don’t want to chase after it and turn into what he became, obsessed. Sometimes, when we were little, he would get drunk and tell me how much I reminded him of her. How every once and a while he would see the tint of green in my eyes that matched hers and that, that would motivate him to keep going. He forgot what she was like in between bottles of whisky and I could remind him to keep going, to keep obsessing. And I don’t want that.”

“I want to heal and accept what I can’t change, but sometimes you walk passed me and I catch a scent so familiar, and it’s like for a second I can kind of remember what she smelled like. And it reminds me of home and when we were little and I don’t think I could ever forgive Dad for taking our home away from us. But it’s almost like for a second I would do anything to see her again. To kill Azazel all over again. I sometimes have a moment of intense rage, and it reminds me so much of Dad. And I don’t want to be like Dad.” Dean’s voice was hoarse and he wiggled his hands through the shackles again to grab for his little brother. He wasn’t making a whole lot of sense, but Sam was still broken up with emotion and he held Dean’s hands and nodded along with him.

“You’re so much better than Dad, Dean.” Sam said softly.

“I don’t think so. I became the same monster he obsessed over killing. Do you think…? Do you think if Dad were alive now, that he would want to kill me?” Dean asked, eyes wide with realization and horror.

“No, he’d want to save you. Just like what we’re doing now.” Sam said, reaching up to rest his hand on the side of Dean’s face. “He’d be proud of you for trying, you didn’t know this would happen. But he would want you to want to get better.”

Dean nodded along fiercely, looking at Castiel and croaking out simple words. “Okay. Okay then help me.”

Castiel came back into the trap and stood beside Sam and Dean. His hand came to rest on Dean’s shoulder. “We will.” Castiel said, gently moving Dean’s head to the side to shoot the seventh, and last, injection. Dean whimpered and his eyes flickered back to black.

“Well that was a moving, family moment. But we’ve reached the last hour of the game, so let’s get going.” Crowley said. He ushered the angels who had walked out back in, and leaned against the wall. “How are we going to go about this?”

“Metatron said he would have to drink a lot of blood for the last part, enough for him tol began seizing.” Castiel said.

“And how exactly do we know that this is going to work? That Metatron hasn’t given us a way to kill him?” Hannah asked.

“It’s the only theory we have, and although Metatron isn’t exactly trustworthy, I don’t think he was lying.” Castiel responded.

Hannah shook her head, unconvinced. Time passed slowly after that. When an hour passed and it was time for the last dose Castiel took out the regular blade and cut his forearm, thankful he no longer felt pain with human instruments. Dean leaned as far away from the pooling blood as possible. The tension in the room was suffocating, everyone eyes on the pair with anticipation. 

“Dean.” Castiel said, moving his hand to caress the back of Dean’s head. “Let me help you.”

Dean gave in, the initial disgust fading away as he slowly and warily opened his mouth to accept the blood being fed to him.

Castiel was watched curiously as Dean still fought against every swallow. But, as time went on the black faded from his eyes and they were their bright forest green again. Dean’s fitful noises turned into pleasurable whimpers and soft moans, and Castiel almost pulled away in shock when he felt Dean bite down and lick softly at Castiel’s arm as his eyes shut.

“Take the chains and shackles off.” Castiel commanded, eyes still trained on Dean who was leaning into Castiel’s arm now.

“Cas, are you sure he’s-“

“Just do it, trust me.” Castiel interrupted Sam, watching Dean with awe.

Sam stepped forward, eyebrows knitted together tightly as he watched his brother drink from Castiel’s arm. It was weird, definitely weird. But Dean didn’t even react to Sam unlocking the shackles and setting him free. Instead, the only thing Dean did was surge forward, lifting his arms to pull Castiel towards him. Dean held Castiel’s forearm roughly, drinking the blood ravenously. But it wasn’t enough, and sooner than later, Castiel was being pulled down onto Dean’s lap, straddling his thighs. Castiel jumped out of his skin at the surprising need but was pulled out of his shock when he felt Dean’s lips pull away from his arm.

Dean and Castiel made eye contact for only a split second, Dean’s eyes green and hungry, pupils dilated. Castiel’s blood covered his lips and trickled down his chin. Castiel’s breath caught in his throat, fearing that taking the shackles off was not a good idea after all.

But then lips were on his throat, tongue tracing over the veins until it was hot on his pulse and Castiel almost screamed he was so unprepared for it.

He did scream, however, when he felt Dean’s teeth bite down over his jugular. It didn’t hurt horribly, but it was completely unexpected. Castiel sat on Dean’s lap, twitching and frozen, one of Dean’s hands on his lower back and the other clenched in his hair. Castiel’s arms were trapped between their chests, and he feared that if he moved Dean would snap out of his angel-blood-induced-trance.

“What do we do?” Cas heard Sam asked, tone panicked.

“Nothing, there’s nothing we can do. Dean’s like a bloody vampire, unlatching him from that angel would be asking for immediate death.” Crowley responded. “It’s not a big deal, guess that for once we grossly underestimated how far the staring could take them.”

“How much longer will this last do you think?”

“Who knows?” Crowley said, voice almost whispered.

Castiel sat as still as he could, trying his hardest not to think about the way Dean’s thumb was moving back and forth across his spine, or how Dean’s fingers locked and pulled in his hair so that he could expose more of Castiel’s neck. Or how they were flush against each other, and Dean’s heat was radiating against Castiel’s.

“Dean.” Castiel whimpered when Dean’s tongue kept tracing over the bite mark on his neck before biting again.

Dean only groaned in response, biting down harder onto Castiel’s neck. Castiel was not supposed to feel pain, he was an angel now, after all. But it must have been something about a demon biting him because Castiel screamed out in pain, trying his hardest not to pull himself away. He had to do this, he knew this wouldn’t be easy when he offered to do it.

 “He’s hurting him!” Hannah spoke up, voice panicked.

“There’s nothing we can do.” Crowley responded.

“There must be something!” Hannah almost begged.

“He’s been going at it for barely minutes, and you already want to stop? He isn’t healed yet, they have to keep going.” Crowley said back, aggravation in his tone.

Castiel was trying to tune it out, but Dean was getting shifty. He kept moving his arms, swiveling his hips, and biting down harder. Castiel’s breathing was heavy and pained, but he assumed it would be over soon.

It wasn’t until Dean pulled away from Castiel’s neck did he realize he was wrong.

The entire room froze as Dean lazily tackled Castiel to the ground, landing on top of him on the floor with a loud thud. Castiel yelled out in response, but Dean was already between his legs, chest pressed against Castiel’s, and teeth on his throat.

“Cas, you alright?” Sam asked, hesitant to get near them. He was only a step towards the trap when Dean let out an animalistic growl.

“Get...Back.” Castiel commanded, voice still low. Castiel didn’t want to risk Dean’s attention getting pulled away from the blood.

Castiel laid still on the floor as Dean made the assault on his neck. What was the proper kind of response to this situation anyway?

It was extremely painful now, but even more uncomfortable.  Especially when everyone in the room was watching with wide eyes as Dean sucked and gnawed at Castiel’s neck.

After about another few minutes, Castiel felt Dean shudder above him. Dean was starting to feel the effects of the blood, and he was thankful. Laying on the ground as a demon drinks from your neck isn’t a whole lot of fun.

Castiel still tried to soothe Dean, after staying perfectly still for a few moments, he finally lifted a hand to rub at Dean’s back as he shook and twitched.

“He must be transitioning.” Hannah said aloud. “Castiel, when he really starts to seize you have to push him off. And when it’s over, we have to transfer your grace.”

Castiel just blinked in her direction, still fearing his own movement. But as if on cue, Dean’s shaking turned more violent, and his lips were practically torn from Castiel’s skin as he groaned out in pain. Castiel pushed him onto his side, and Dean’s seizing was merciless.

Dean shook on the ground, eyes switching back to black. His skin was hot and clammy, sweat pooling on his forehead. Castiel kept his hands on him, trying to pull him up into a sitting position so that they were facing each other. Dean groaned and cried out, tears forming in his eyes. The mark on his arm twitched and flickered in fury.

“Castiel, are you ready for this?” Hannah asked, standing by his side. “Sam is going stab you with the blade when you tell him to.”

“Yes, I’m ready.” Castiel said bravely. “And whatever happens, if I don’t survive, make sure he knows-.”

“I’ll tell him. But you’re going to be okay.” Sam promised, replacing Hannah’s spot next to him.

Castiel pushed Dean’s sweaty hair off his forehead, caressing his face softly. He hated that this could be the last time he sees Dean, breathing heavily with Castiel’s blood on his lips and tongue.

“Dean.” Castiel said softly, leaning forward and pressing his lips to Dean’s forehead just as his eyes flickered black and then back to green again. Dean was practically screaming now.

“Now, Sam.” Castiel breathed, one hand on Dean’s face keeping it so that their eyes were locked, the other on Dean’s shoulder.

Sam hesitated, moving so that he was standing behind Castiel and watching Dean over his shoulder. “Cas-“

“Now!” Castiel yelled, Dean’s face less than an inch away.

Sam pursed his lips, putting his hand on Castiel’s shoulder and shoving the blade in right next to his spine.

Castiel screamed, but kept his eyes connected with Dean’s. Dean watched, slowly coming to his senses as the demonic fuzz faded from him. At Castiel’s gut-wrenching scream, Dean cried out too, grabbing at Castiel’s shirt in sudden fear for his best friend. Dean didn’t understand what was going on, and was afraid that Castiel was dying again. Tears tracked down his cheeks as light flooded out of Castiel’s eyes and mouth.

For everyone else in the room, it was a blinding light that drowned out the pair in the middle of the room. They covered their eyes, and Sam kept the blade inserted in Castiel’s back.

For Dean and Castiel, it was intense and intimate in every way. Castiel’s grace was being ripped out of him again, and he cried out in pain until he was weeping for his loss. But he also wept for his gain, because his grace poured itself into Dean, and Dean’s eyes matched Castiel’s intense shower of cerulean light. The red glow on Dean’s forearm evaporated, and the only mark left on his body was Castiel’s newly branded handprint on his shoulder, returned after years of absence.

When the light dimmed and faded, Dean and Castiel’s lips were almost pressed together before they both went limp against each other. Dean was passed out from exhaustion, and Castiel’s skin was cold.

Hannah rushed forward, and Sam pulled the blade out of Castiel’s back, watching as blood poured from the wound. Hanna placed her shaking palm over his back and surged up enough power to heal it, hoping that Castiel’s presence still remained so that it could return to his vessel.

Castiel shuddered, the pinkness returning to his cheeks as he gasped for air. His eyes remained closed, and Hannah had to remind herself that he was human now. Sam and Hannah sat back on their haunches, sighing relief as Castiel and Dean laid beside each other on the floor.

Dean’s breathing was soft, the red mark on his forearm completely gone. Sam’s eyes went wide when he saw that Castiel’s handprint was back onto his shoulder, radiating heat and probably very painful.

“We should put them to bed, let them sleep it off.” Sam offered after moments of stunning silence.

“I’ll return Dean to his bed. Where should Castiel go?” Hannah asked.

“Put them both in Dean’s bed. I think keeping them close is a good idea.” Crowley spoke, eying the mess of tangled limbs and deep breathing on the floor. “Leave the hand print, as well.”

Hannah placed her hands on both of their arms, and then they were out of the dungeon and in Dean’s bedroom. Sam ran up and helped settle both Dean and Castiel into Dean’s bed comfortably. Once their shoes were off and their clothes were changed, Dean turned over to snuggle in against Castiel. Sam and Hannah left to give them some privacy.

They slept for almost sixteen hours.

Sam ran in to check on them from time to time, standing in the doorway with a lazy smile. He was happy to see his brother human again, even if it meant that Castiel was human too. He hoped that this time, Castiel would stay with them. Judging from how every time Sam came in Dean’s room they were in a new cuddling position, he probably wouldn’t have to hope too hard.


	3. Chapter 3

_“Rest your body on my body, let me feel the weight of your existence so I know what purpose feels like.”_

_— Flatsound_

Dean woke up slowly, his brain hazy and his chest heavy. He was disoriented, unaware of his surroundings and current state. His bones were gelatin, and his skin felt warm and too tight. His left shoulder burned intensely.

It had been weeks since he actually slept, so why had he just woken up?

Dean was aware, however, of the arm around his waist and the hot breath on his neck.

For a second, Dean thought he was waking up in a random person’s bed after a good lay. But he just _didn’t feel right._

Dean couldn’t see anything, whether it was too dark or because his eyes were burning too badly. He couldn’t even make out what was on the alarm clock besides the bed except for glowing red.

Dean tensed when he felt the arm squeeze around his waist. It was far too muscular to be a woman’s, and Dean felt as though he would remember picking up a man. Something was definitely wrong.

“Dean?” A low, tired voice that sounded like velvet over gravel asked. Dean felt as though he was about to jump out of his skin.

Without any concern for the blankets wrapped around his legs, Dean scrambled to get out of the bed. With a lot of struggle, Dean managed to crawl to the corner of the room, hoping for safety. He was off guard, feeling extremely fatigued and drained. What was happening? He couldn’t see, his shoulder was burning, and fucking _Castiel_ was lying in bed with him.

Dean hadn’t seen Cas in weeks. So why were they cuddling? Had they…? Dean was kinky but that just seemed blasphemous.

The strangest thing of all was that Dean no longer felt the familiar burn on the center of his forearm. He couldn’t see its glow, he couldn’t feel the heat radiating in his veins. He felt weak, powerless. He felt _human_.

“Dean?” Cas asked again, kneeling on the ground in front of Dean’s shaking form.

“Cas?” Dean gasped out, reaching out to grab a handful of his shirt, just to feel him. To make sure he was real.

“Dean, look at me.” Castiel said, placing his hands on Dean’s shoulders to steady him. Dean cried out because Castiel had grabbed the burning spot on his shoulder. But it wasn’t because it was painful, it was because it sent a rush of sensitivity down his spine and to his toes.

“I can’t-“ Dean choked. “I can’t see…What the hell happened to me?”

“You need to focus, okay? Just take a deep breath, you’re panicking.” Castiel soothed, taking his one hand off the burning skin and caressing Dean’s face.

Dean took a few deep breaths, and calmed tremendously when the darkness started fading and he could see again. He could see Cas’ concerned face only inches away from his.

“What the fuck?” Dean breathed out.

“What do you remember?” Castiel asked, sitting down on the floor in front of Dean.

“I-I don’t know. I was walking into a bar, and then Crowley-“ Dean said, and then realization hit him. “Am I back at the bunker?”

“Yes. Do you feel different?” Cas asked softly.

Dean thought for a moment. He did feel different. He felt calm, no longer filled with sick and twisted rage. He felt like himself, his old self.

“I do.” Dean said incredulously. “What happened?”

“Crowley brought you to us.” Castiel said, still speaking as though he was walking on eggshells. “We figured out a way to cure you.”

Dean’s eyes shifted to his unscathed forearm, and then to the mark on his shoulder. The room was dim, but he could make out the familiar shape of a hand print. Dean’s head snapped up to look at Castiel. Castiel, with his messy bed head and tired eyes. He looked like hell.

“Cas…” Dean spoke slowly, taking in what he knew Cas did to save him. “What the fuck did you do?”

“I did what I had to do to save you.” Castiel shot back in response to Dean’s anger.

Dean thought for a moment, trying his hardest to remember the night before.

It came to him slowly.

He remembered sitting in a flowery smelling house, chained and shackled as a witch cast a silencing spell on him. He remembered Crowley zapping them to the bunker, and being very unconcerned. He remembered having no fear over anyone being able to cure him.

Dean remembered Sam’s pained face, and how he didn’t give a shit what he was feeling. Dean remembered catching Cas staring at him in shock, and how calming it was to see the fading and weak, but still brilliant form, that was Castiel. He remembered how Cas fell to his knees, bleeding and gasping and sobbing for Dean. He remembered sitting in the dungeon for hours, until Sam, Castiel, and Crowley came to speak to him. He remembered arguing with Sam, and how he wished he could look into Castiel’s eyes for hours. To see him, the real him. He remembered feeling emotional pain, for the first time in weeks, at seeing Castiel look down at him as a monster who wasn’t Dean Winchester anymore, and how he vowed to save him at any cost.

Most of all, he remembered begging for them not to do it. When he realized that there _was_ a cure for him, he begged Sam and Castiel to not make him go back. He remembered actually being afraid when Castiel mocked his earlier words, and kept his promise to save him. He remembered watching Castiel take back in his grace, and how his true form looked when powered up to full charge. Dean almost willingly went for the cure at seeing Castiel. Dean remembered the feeling of a needle in his neck and the taste of Castiel’s blood on his lips. It was disgusting at first until it turned into ambrosia on his tongue, and he basically assaulted Cas to get more. He remembered the pain, writhing on the ground as his soul cleansed itself. He remembered Cas sitting him up, placing his hand on his shoulder and keeping eye contact, even when Sam drove the blade in his back and the light flooded from his eyes. Dean remembered the feeling of grace running through his veins, pure energy in his bones, and Castiel’s lips almost on his.

Dean remembered everything. His cure, and all before. The endless women (and even a few men) and alcohol. The countless times he went into a murderous rage and blacked out, only to awake in a puddle of someone else’s blood. He remembered how he never felt guilty. Until now, that is.  

“Oh, God.” Dean heaved, reaching for Cas and pulling more handfuls of his shirt. He needed something to hold on to, to make him feel sane again. Dean felt so fragile, so broken. Like his soul had been shattered and poorly glued back together. He wept, for the first time in weeks, as human. He felt, for the first time in months.

“Dean, it’s okay.” Cas soothed, reaching forward to bring Dean against his chest. Castiel held him as he sobbed, making no move to push him away even when he winced at Dean’s nails digging into his back.

“Cas…You’re…You’re-“ Dean began, sniffling and pulling his face away from Cas’ neck.

“Yes, I’m human. My grace was used to cancel out the mark’s effect.” Castiel said simply.

“I’m sorry. Geez Cas, I’m so damn sorry. If it weren’t for me you’d be all angel-ed up again.” Dean said, his voice wet and tears on his cheeks.

“Don’t apologize, Dean. This isn’t your fault. And besides,” Castiel said, pausing to look up at Dean with affectionate eyes. “Seeing you human again is a lot more satisfying than petty things like flying. Even if it means I have to be human with you.”

Dean let out a watery laugh, reaching up to grab at Castiel’s face with thankfulness. “I know I said some shit, like how I would hate you and never forgive you. But I was wrong. I… I don’t know if I could ever thank you for saving me.”

“It wouldn’t be the first time.” Castiel said, standing up and pulling Dean up with him. “Just this time, I’d prefer if you stayed human.”

“I can do that.” Dean said, a small smile growing on his lips. Castiel walked forward, wiping the tears off of Dean’s face, and if there were any other people in the room, they might have made a comment or stared as Castiel’s thumbs brushed under Dean’s eyelids even after the wetness was gone. They definitely would have gawked when Dean reached up and wrapped his hands around Castiel’s wrists, and releasing one to trace over the white scar on Castiel’s jugular. Faint teeth marks that Hannah must not have healed all the way, or simply could not be healed.

They didn’t say anything after that, Castiel only turned away. He smiled softly at Dean, gesturing for him to follow. Castiel led Dean out of the bedroom, and into the library where Sam, Crowley, and Hannah were waiting.

“Sam.” Crowley said, kicking his feet off the table and turning towards the pair walking in. “Looks as though the lovebirds have awoken.”

Castiel blushed, but Dean didn’t let the words phase him. He practically ran to Sam, who was climbing out of his chair in record time, managing to keep the chair up right against his mess of limbs.

“Dean.” Sam said with a joyful smile. The slammed into each other with the force of their hug, wrapping their arms around each other and squeezing tightly. Dean didn’t try very hard to hide his sniffling. “Good to see you back, man.”

“Sammy.” Dean said, sounding like a child who just met their idol. “Man, have I missed you.”

“I missed you too. Glad to see you didn’t keep your promise about never forgiving me, or hating me. And Cas is in one piece so I assume everyone’s happy.” Sam said, clapping a hand on Dean’s shoulder. Dean smiled softly.

“Yeah, we’re all good.” Dean turned to Crowley, family moment over as he squinted at the demon. “I don’t know whether to thank you, or stab you in the throat.”

“A simple thank you, will suffice.” Crowley said, kicking his feet back onto the table and taking a swig of whiskey.

“What are you still doing here?” Dean asked, obviously not approving.

“Thought I’d stick around in case things went awry.” Crowley said dryly. “I don’t leave my investments without visual confirmation that everything has gone smoothly.”

“So now I’m an investment?” Dean bit.

“Of the sorts.” Crowley responded, seeming bored.

“Whatever.” Dean said, waving a hand in dismissal. “I’m fucking starving. You hungry Cas?”

Cas turned his head away from the conversation about heaven he was having with Hannah and smiled at Dean. “Of course.”

“Awesome. Sammy, wanna make the new humans some grub?”

Sam just smiled fondly, and nodded before disappearing in to the kitchen. Dean sat down in a chair, eyeing the bottle of whiskey.

“I’ve been instructed to inform you that your alcohol privileges have been revoked as a coping method.” Crowley said over the book he was reading.

“So you come into my bunker, tell me I’m your investment, decide to stick around, and then above all, try to tell me that I’m not allowed to drink _my_ alcohol.” Dean asked incredulously, reaching for the bottle. “Get bent, Crowley.”

“Dean, he has a point. It’s only noon, drinking should not be of interest yet.” Castiel said, walking over to Dean.

“Cas, you spend a couple of months as a Knight of Goddamn Hell, never being able to control yourself or your urge to kill, and then come tell me when I can and can’t drink.” Dean spat.

Castiel stared at Dean, same intense blue that had Dean almost shrinking away in his seat. “Glad to see you’re back to your old self.” Castiel said bitterly, sitting down at the table and keeping his eyes off Dean.

Dean didn’t reach for the whiskey after that.

He tried to pretend like he didn’t give a shit. But in truth, he didn’t like seeing the way Cas looked at him. The sadness in his eyes when Dean made a grab for the alcohol.

Sam walked in eventually with two homemade burgers and oven baked French fries. He ignored the tension and placed the plates in front of the two hungry humans. Dean bit into his burger and groaned. It had been weeks since he ate any human food besides alcohol. What he ate during his time as a demon could make him sick if he really thought about it.

Even though Castiel had gone down the human road before, eating was still a difficult concept to grasp. He bit into the burger messily, its juices dripping down his chin and onto the plate. He struggled to bite all the way through, trying his hardest not to make a mess.

Dean watched Castiel with an amused smile, reaching over to grab a napkin and hand it to him when he placed the burger down onto the plate.

“Thanks Sam.” Dean said after a few more bites.

They ate in relative silence, Sam allowing them both to have their peace whilst eating. It was strange, to have everyone all together, even Crowley and Hannah sat with them. Dean briefly wondered if because of this event, everyone would become closer. Although Dean would rather kick Crowley out of the bunker this instant.

“So, what now? Any hunting to be done?” Dean asked when all of his food was eaten. Everyone glanced up from whatever they were doing and looked at Dean strangely.

“Dude, you just became human again. You and Cas have some major resting to be done for these next couple weeks.” Sam said, raising his eye brow at Dean.

“Hannah has assured me she has everything under control in heaven, besides a few rogue angels, we should be fine for now.” Castiel said simply.

“What will you do now, Cas?” Sam asked, curiously leaning forward.

Castiel’s eyes widened for a second and he took a shaky breath. “I don’t really know.”

“Well you’ll be staying here at the bunker, won’t you?” Dean asked, suddenly worried.

“If I am welcome, then I suppose yes.” Castiel said, eyes looking at the table in front of him.

Dean leaned towards him and rested a hand on his shoulder. “Of course you’re welcome here, Cas. You can hunt with Sammy and me, and I’m sure they will still need your help with angelic things every now and then so you can be like a consultant. Being human won’t even be all that different, except you won’t be able to travel around the world as quickly as you used to.”

Castiel smiled at Dean, a soft thing with no teeth, but with deep affection for the man in front of him. “Yes, I think being human this time will be a lot nicer.”


	4. Chapter 4

_“Hell isn’t Hell when you’re together,” the wolf hums, looking on sadly, from the recesses of her dreams._

_“Hell isn’t Hell when you’re together. It’s why the universe keeps taking you away.”_

_—        echo and narcissus_

 In the weeks that followed the re-bestowment of humanity upon Dean and Castiel, things changed.

The first few days were fine. Dean read mostly, sleeping and eating between sittings in the library. He caught up with Sam in the process, somehow finding things to talk about that didn’t pertain to Dean’s time as a demon or Sam’s rabid search for him. It felt nice to be human again, and better yet to be with his brother.

As for Castiel, things were relatively the same. He had spent the past weeks borderline human, so not much was different. Besides having to sleep every night and eat three times a day, Castiel dealt with being human like nothing had changed.

The honeymoon phase, unfortunately, didn’t last very long.

No one ever spoke of the rooming situation. Castiel didn’t have his own room despite there being plenty to choose from. He didn’t have a lot of personal items to need extra space, so he stuck to sleeping in Dean’s room.

Although, for the first few days, their sleeping schedules were off. Castiel was more nocturnal than anything else, often staying up until the wee hours of the morning to read or watch television. He had trouble sleeping at night, it still being something he had difficulty getting used to. In general, he didn’t like sleeping. Dreaming was terrifying because it was similar to what it was like when he was under Naomi’s mind control.

So, Castiel and Dean didn’t have to face sleeping together. Castiel passed out in armchairs and Dean would fall asleep pretty much anywhere.

But eventually, their sleeping schedules would return to normal. The strange thing was, still, no one said anything. Dean and Castiel just climbed into bed one night, both understanding that it was a bit odd, and saying nothing. They slept with a gap between them.

The handprint on Dean’s shoulder was also something that was different. Dean would be lying if he said he didn’t miss having it there, but it wasn’t the same as it had been the first time. It felt different, although almost identical in position and size. It was sensitive, not painful, but Dean found he couldn’t wear certain shirts unless he wrapped his shoulder because the fabric against the scar made his knees go weak.

As time went on, Dean got back into rhythm with his old human self. Sam was manning the phones for other hunters, or doing some research. He had taken the role as Bobby while Dean was off duty. Some other hunters were aware of Dean’s previous species, but weren’t stupid enough to say anything about it to Sam.

Dean was becoming unsettled. Days and days went by, and he stayed in the bunker and did nothing. Sam insisted that hunting wasn’t a good idea yet, but Dean hated feeling useless.

“I’m getting cabin fever, Sammy. I wanna go out in baby and gank a few monsters, sitting inside all day doing nothing is driving me insane.” Dean admitted one night over dinner. Having nightly dinners was a common occurrence that instilled a sense of family between the three.

“Dean, there’s no rush. I just think it would be better to wait-“

“Why? What are you so worried about? That I’m gonna go off the deep end if I kill something? I feel fine, Sam.” Dean said, annoyance rolling off him in waves.

“Look, I know you feel fine, but as far as we know you’re the first successful cure of a demon in history. So let’s just give it some time, okay? I just want to make sure you aren’t gonna wake up with black eyes one day.” Sam spilled, shrugging.

Dean had simply rolled his eyes and stalked off to his room.

The thing was, Dean was itching to get out there. Not so much to kill, but to just do something. Anything, but to sit around in his head all day.

Dean had nightmares a lot before he was a demon. When you lived that kind of life, it’s expected. But the ones he was experiencing now were so much worse.

PTSD was an issue Dean used to solve with alcohol. Years of torturing souls in hell could be erased with a few shots, but now he was cut off. There was no way to run away from the horrors of his mind, and now they were so much worse. What little sleep Dean managed to get, was often light and unsatisfying.

The nightmares Dean had every night now were different, because they weren’t just nightmares. They were memories. He was dreaming about things he had done as a demon. He would wake up in the middle of the night screaming and shaking, expecting to find blood on his hands. Sometimes, he woke up in different parts of the bunker, having walked there in his sleep. On the nights he woke up in his own bed after a nightmare, he could come back to his senses quicker. But as the time went on and he woke up in different rooms, it took longer and was so much more terrifying.

Most of the time, Castiel was there. He was the one who pulled Dean out of his fit and assured him that his hands were clean. He soothed and comforted Dean as best as he could, lulling him back to sleep. Sometimes Castiel would find Dean sitting in the middle of the kitchen or on the bathroom floor, staring up with eyes glazed over. That was always scary, because Dean would sometimes get stuck in between being awake and asleep. He could hold a conversation, but be dreaming he was somewhere else.

The more intense his nightmares got, the more Dean itched to get out of the bunker. He ached for sunlight, for fresh air. So when Castiel came to him one day saying something about needing to get some groceries, Dean jumped at the chance.

A simple drive to Walmart in the impala, with his old rock station on, was an immense relief. Castiel sat passenger seat as Dean drove with the windows down. Castiel smiled at Dean, he was such a dork even as they walked through the store.

Sam had been hesitant about letting Dean outside, but Cas insisted they would be fine. After all, it wasn’t Sam who had to wake up in the middle of the night to Dean’s screams. Castiel understood Dean’s frustration and eagerness to leave.

“Let’s get some lunch.” Dean offered, pulling into a McDonalds. Castiel shrugged in agreement. “You’ve haven’t truly experienced precious fast food.” Dean never thought he would be so happy to be sitting in a McDonalds with Castiel, but he was.

“How are you feeling, Dean?” Castiel asked as they were driving home.

“What do you mean?” Dean asked. He was in such a great mood, and the deep questions were unexpected.

“Well, with you being cured and everything? I know you’ve been having bad nightmares but-“

“Cas, I’m good. I’ve been having nightmares since I was four years old, it’s nothing new.” Dean interrupted fiercely. Castiel drew back, shutting down and nodding. Dean sighed at his response, realizing that he was a bit too vicious. “I’m fine, Cas. I am.”

“I just worry, is all. It’s terrifying to wake up to every night, with the nightmares and what not.” Castiel admitted, looking out the window.

Dean nodded and laid his hand on Castiel’s forearm. “I know, and I’m sorry. We could always get you your own room if it’s bothering you?”

Castiel lifted his head, eyes wide. “No. I mean… It’s not that bad, and it’s probably best that you have someone to pull you out of the really bad dreams, right?”

Dean tried to hide his smile at how panicked Castiel sounded at the idea of them sleeping separately. “Right.”

Castiel did little to hide his sigh of relief. “I know this might be crossing a line. But I don’t mind sleeping next to you. It keeps my own nightmares at bay. I only wish there was a way I could help you.”

Dean nodded, and shrugged. “You aren’t an angel, Cas. Not anymore. You gave that up to save me. You once told me that I can’t save everyone. And, well this is similar. You can’t fix all of me. No matter how hard you try.”

“That doesn’t mean I won’t try, though.” Castiel responded.

Dean turned his head to look at Castiel. Their eyes met, and Dean studied the never ending blue of Castiel’s in fascination. “I didn’t say you shouldn’t.”

Their eyes remained locked for several moments before Dean’s eyes pulled back to look ahead of him and on the road. Tension settled between the two, but not the bad kind.

They got back to the bunker soon after, both returning to their respective areas. Castiel was working his way through the Men of Letters library, correcting any mistakes and factual errors. He had extensive knowledge on many things, and needed a place to put it all.

Dean was rifling his way through various TV shows, sometimes taking a break to go to the shooting range. He dragged Castiel with him every now and then, insisting they work on his aim now that he didn’t have angel powers. Castiel hated going to the gun range, because Dean just teased him.

More days passed and Dean’s nightmares grew worse. He wasn’t sleeping enough, he was exhausted. Castiel tried everything, making him tea before bed, playing relaxing music. Sam was concerned, but there was nothing he could do. Even Crowley had no luck.

“Maybe we should just take him to a doctor? Get him on medication?” Castiel offered to Sam one night. Dean was dozing on the couch, but it wouldn’t be long before he shot up, awake.

“No, too risky. At this point, I’m just considering letting him drink again. That’s what he did before. I know it sounds bad, but think of the life we’re living. Everything is bad. At least he’ll be functional.” Sam admitted, frustrated.

Castiel shook his head. “No, no that’s a horrible idea. Even if we let him drink again, who is to say it’ll help? Then the alcohol will just be another problem to deal with.” Castiel said.

“I don’t know, Cas. Is there anything you can do? I mean you two share a bedroom.” Sam suggested.

Castiel lifted an eyebrow. “What are you suggesting?” He asked incredulously.

Sam put his hands up. “That’s not what I meant. It’s just, when I would have nightmares when I was little, Dean would sing until I fell back asleep. When he had nightmares, I would rub his back and hug him till he cried himself back to sleep. What do you do when he has a nightmare now?”

“I wake him and talk him down.” Castiel said.

Sam thought for a moment. “Try doing what I used to do. Physical contact makes a great difference.”

Castiel nodded nerves tickling beneath his skin. Later that night when Dean began screaming and sobbing, Castiel gently woke him. Instead of awkwardly watching as Dean cried himself back into a restless sleep, he rubbed at his back and even held his hand. Dean didn’t even say anything about it, only sniffled and shut his eyes, falling back asleep.

It seemed as though it was working, at first. It even looked like Dean was getting better. He still had nightmares, but he looked more rested. He didn’t look like a zombie walking around the bunker during the day, although he remained quiet and his eating habits declined.

Dean never said anything about Castiel’s new attempts to help him. Castiel thought that maybe Dean just didn’t remember what would happen right after a nightmare. Castiel was fine with that though, he wasn’t doing it to be praised for caring. He did it to help his friend.

The small period of relief didn’t last for long. Dean was exhausted, and still acting as though he was perfectly fine. He still teased and joked, but all attempts at acting like everything was okay were only half-hearted, and the dark circles around his eyes gave him away.

Sam’s phone lines were blowing up, demonic activity, ghosts, and various monsters. Hunters were ever grateful for Sam’s dedication to helping those who needed it, but he was needed on the field as well. After a couple weeks of sitting in the bunker to watch Dean, it was time that Sam returned to his job.

“If you’re going, I’m going.” Dean said one night, when Sam spoke up about a vampire’s nest a few towns over a new hunter had called Sam about the night earlier.

“No way.” Sam responded simply. Cas sat quietly on the other side of him, not saying a word.

“And why the hell not? I’ve been stuck in this damn bunker for weeks, are you just gonna keep me here forever? I’m not a damn princess you can lock up in some tower, I have a job to do. Just like you. I need to get back in the field.” Dean said, anger making his voice rise. He was on edge, lacking sleep and quite irritable. He barely even ate his dinner.

“Dean, look at you. Your head is barely above water here. You aren’t sleeping well. Hell, you aren’t eating well. You aren’t okay, and it’s going to take some time to get back on the right-“

“How long, Sam? It’s been _weeks_.” Dean interrupted, fist slamming on the table.

“However long it takes for you to get a grip of your life again. No one expects you to just magically be back to your old self, Dean. You were a damn demon. Think of this as a vacation. The world, as of right now, is not in peril. Beside a few easy hunts, everything is fine. So relax. There’s no rush.” Sam assured, trying to be reasonable. Castiel agreed with Sam, Dean wasn’t ready to be out on the prowl again.

Dean stood up, mouth curling in anger. He wobbled, and Cas almost jumped up to help him stand but decided against it. “No rush? I’m going mad, Sam! I can’t… I’m going crazy. I need to do something that isn’t sitting on my ass all day. You want me to get better? Take me on a hunt. Let me do what I do best, gank monsters. I feel like I’m suffocating here. I just need things to be normal, to kill a few beasts and kick back a couple beers. _That’s_ normal, Sam. And it’s the only kind of normal we have.”

Sam contemplated for a second, pursing his lips before looking up at his shaking brother. “Okay. If you think you’re fine, we’ll go on a hunt.” Dean smiled in triumph. “But not this one. Not a full nest of vamps. We’ll start off small, get you back on your feet and work your way up.”

Dean sighed, nodding in reluctant agreement. There was no use in pushing it further, he could compromise if that’s what it would take to get out of this damn bunker.

They finished their dinner in silence. Castiel was happy that Dean wasn’t fighting to go on this hunt. He was sickly, and needed to get his head on straight before handling a full nest of vampires. When Sam got back, maybe then they’d run a quick salt n’ burn in an area nearby.

After dinner, Sam pulled Cas to the side. “I’m leaving this weekend. I won’t be gone for longer than a week. Do you think you’ll be okay with him?”

Cas nodded. “I’ll be fine, Sam. He’ll be alright. I have your number if something goes awry.”

Sam smiled softly. “Thanks, Cas. I really appreciate how much you’re doing for him. Between handling him when he’s asleep and when he’s awake, I wish there was way I could thank you. I know you’re still struggling with this whole human thing, and I am grateful that you’re here.”

“Thank you, Sam. It’s really not a problem. You two are my friends, and this is what friends are for.” Castiel assured.

“Oh shut up, Cas.” Sam joked, clapping a hand on Cas’ shoulder. “You’re family now, practically a Winchester.” Castiel smiled fondly at hearing that, feeling a warmth swell in his chest at Sam’s words.

It was only Thursday, and Sam wouldn’t be leaving until Saturday. Dean had disappeared into his room, probably still pissy about his and Sam’s argument. It was early, and Castiel curled himself up on the couch with a random book. He appreciated all literature, and wasn’t picky when it came to reading.

Time flew as Castiel sat there, reading some nonfiction piece on World War II. At some point, he looked up at the clock and realized it was nearing midnight. With a tired sigh, he made his way back to Dean’s room. Although, it would probably be accurate to call it _their_ bedroom by now.

Dean was awake, unsurprisingly. The light was off, but Castiel knew from the way Dean laid still on his back that he was awake. Without a word, Castiel grabbed some pajamas and went to the bathroom, taking a quick shower and changing.

Once entering back into Dean’s – their – room, Castiel silently slipped into bed. Dean was on his side now, and Castiel suspected that he was asleep. His shoulders moved slowly, heaving with every breath. Without any acknowledgment, Castiel shut his eyes. He didn’t enjoy dreaming, but he was exhausted, and welcomed sleep without fight.

It was blurry, but his vision cleared eventually. There was a field, a prairie of sorts. It reminded Castiel of the autistic man’s heaven he used to visit. Sitting in luscious green grass and surrounded by wild flowers, Castiel let out a sigh of relief. Rather than vicious flashbacks of Naomi’s lair, or darkness that swallowed him whole, Castiel was dreaming something peaceful. And it was lovely.

A figure emerged from the trees beside Castiel, walking toward him and sitting down. Castiel recognized the freckled skin and green eyes immediately, and smiled at Dean. “Isn’t it beautiful?”

Dean nodded, a small smile curling his lips. “It is.” Dean moved closer to Castiel, so that they were hip to hip. Castiel cocked his head, confused at the sudden closeness. “But I see something much more breathtaking.”

Castiel didn’t get a chance to respond, because Dean’s lips crashed onto his. Castiel let out a shocked gasp, muffled by Dean’s affection. Dean was soft, gentle as he kissed Castiel. It was nice, Castiel decided.

In all the time that Castiel knew Dean, the prospect of kissing him was never thoroughly thought out. Physical intimacy was something Castiel rarely had time to think about, especially with Dean. It crossed his mind every now and then, especially now that he was human, what being intimate with Dean would be like. But it was a day dream, and the idea never grew larger than a single thought here and there.

Still, Castiel accepted Dean’s lips hungrily. It was just a dream, and Castiel could live with that. And when Dean’s hands began to travel along Castiel’s body, caressing and touching in all the best ways, Castiel decided that he could _definitely_ live with this.

“Cas, you’re perfect.” The dream Dean whispered in Castiel’s ear, biting his ear lobe and sucking on it. Castiel reached up, gripping onto Dean’s shirt and gasping in pleasure.

“I need you.” Castiel whispered, pulling at Dean’s clothes with a fierceness he did not know he possessed. Dean nodded, kissing down his neck and unbuckling Castiel’s pants.

The dream Dean grabbed Castiel’s hardening cock in his hand, biting and sucking at Castiel’s neck. Castiel wished for Dean to be gaining pleasure from this as well, he wanted to hear Dean moan his name and _ache_ for him.

Dean shed all of Castiel’s clothing, leaving him bare but himself fully clothed. Despite Castiel’s pleas for Dean to lose his clothing as well, Dean only brought their lips together to silence.

“Please.” Castiel begged, Dean’s hands pumping around his cock, bringing him closer and closer to the edge. “I need… I need-“

“What do you need?” Dean asked, talking for the first time in a while.

“You.” Castiel nearly sobbed, almost hitting his peak.

Dean’s hands pulled away abruptly, and he sat up straight. Castiel let out a shriek in surprise, feeling cold without Dean’s arms around him. “Do you, Cas? Do you really need me?”

Castiel felt dazed, and looked at the dream Dean in confusion. “Of course, Dean.”

Dean’s face hardened, his fists clenching. He spoke viciously through his teeth. “You’re lying.”

Castiel’s face fell, and he sat up. “No, Dean. I’m not. I need you more than I need air. I gave up everything for you, don’t you see?”

“You’re just a liar. The broken shell of something once divine. Tell me Castiel, what is an angel without its wings?” Dean’s voice deepened, and without warning his eyes flickered black.

Castiel drew back, disgusted not only in Dean’s words but the fact that he had been touched by whatever Dean was now. “You aren’t Dean.”

“Oh, but I am.” The dream Dean spoke, voice hard and hateful.

“No.” Castiel refused, trying to stand. His nakedness meant nothing to him, he wanted to leave. To wake up.

“You know, all those times I told you I needed you, I was lying.” This demonic dream Dean spoke. “It was always a ploy, a way to get you to do what I needed. Like in the crypt, you beat me to a pulp so I did what I do best. I _lied_.”

Castiel turned slowly, looking right into the dark eyes. “You are not Dean Winchester.”

“I am. And I don’t need you. I never did. You’re just another dick with wings, you know that? Well, _without_ wings now. You gave up everything for me, and still managed to do more harm than good. When you died after ingesting all those souls, I was relieved. I wouldn’t have to deal with you following me around like some injured puppy. You became God, devastated heaven, and then you were gone. And we all felt like celebrating.”

“Stop.” Castiel seethed, fists clenching.

“And then you came back, all broken with your mind shattered. I will say I’m thankful for what you did, taking Sam’s hallucinations away. But then again, you were the one that caused them. You’re the reason we had to deal with the entire leviathan fiasco, because your Daddy went on a bender and you couldn’t handle it. So you put on his shoes and tried walking around in them, but ended up tripping all over the place and destroying everything.”

“Dean, please.” Castiel begged. Tears prickled at his eyes, he needed Dean to stop. The bright and vibrant lights of the garden faded, and Castiel found himself back in Naomi’s office.

“Oh, and then there was Purgatory. You left me, Cas. Left me to rot in that monster infested shit-hole.”

“I did it to protect you!” Castiel insisted, backing up as he came to his surroundings.

“Sure. Whatever, Cas. I’ll admit, I searched for you. But Benny was a way better friend to me than you ever were. I just felt responsible for you. I needed you to surface back up to Earth with me. And you wanna know why? Because it’s always best to have an angel up your sleeve. The only thing you’re good for is your mojo. Helping us on a hunt when we needed it. Besides that, you’re nothing but a failed rebel. No better than Lucifer.”

“Stop it!” Castiel yelled, backing into the corner. Dean stood in front of Naomi’s desk.

“When Metatron took your grace, I was bummed. You were of no use to me. We didn’t need you around anymore, and I was glad that Gadreel wanted me to kick you out of the bunker. I didn’t have to come up with an excuse. In the end, your grace being gone was a blessing in disguise.”

Castiel’s breathing was erratic, he felt as though his entire world was caving in on him.

“Look at you. Look at what you’ve become. So pathetic. So eager and ready to be loved by me. You fell in love with a _human_ , gave everything up for a _human_ , whose feelings are still unrequited. God that must suck so bad. Tell me in detail, what was it like to have to kill me thousands of times when Naomi was brainwashing you?” Dean walked towards Castiel, grabbing him roughly and lifting him over to Naomi’s chair.

“Let me go!” Castiel yelled, but Dean’s grip was tight.

“No way, the fun is just beginning.” Dean laughed manically, strapping Castiel to the chair. Metatron and Naomi appeared beside Dean, and they all smiled down at Castiel cruelly.

“Leave me alone.” Castiel breathed, tears streaming down his face. Naomi picked up her tools, hovering over him.

“You’ll never be loved, Castiel.” Dean said, voice soft but patronizing. “Your father didn’t love you. Your brothers and sisters don’t love you. I, Castiel, could never love such a disaster like you.” 

Castiel let out a string of sobs, screaming as he felt Naomi begin to cut into him. He couldn’t breathe, it was all too much. Metatron reached toward Dean, petting him fondly. Castiel watched as Dean leaned into him. At first, it almost looked like they were going to kiss. But Metatron sharply twisted, slashing his blade across Dean’s throat.

Dean gurgled, laughing as blood poured from his throat and out his mouth. A tiny sliver a blue emerged, dull and flickering. Castiel gasped, realizing that it was what was left of the grace Castiel used to heal Dean.

“Is it comforting to know that your grace went to waste?” Dean asked, throat suddenly healed. His eyes were dark, peering shadows at Castiel. “You’ll never be able to save me, Castiel. No matter how hard you try.”

Castiel trembled, naked and exposed to his worst nightmares. Metatron held his blade tightly, and Dean reached behind him to pick up the First Blade. They both turned towards him, looking menacingly at Castiel before lunging at him. Castiel made attempt to fight, writhing on the table as the three before him ripped and tore into him. The pain was unexplainable, and Castiel only screamed and begged for relief.

Castiel shot up screaming, the intense light of Naomi’s office was ripped away so fiercely that he continued screaming until he was hoarse, not immediately aware that he was surrounded by the darkness of the bedroom.  Sobs escaped his lips, broken and defeated cries of anguish. His chest was heaving, and his body still burned in memory but was physically fine.

“Cas?” A voice whispered from above him, and Castiel finally realized that the heavy weight he felt on top of him was actually a person.

Dean was straddling him, breathing heavily and pinning Cas’ wrists to the bed. Castiel was extremely confused, and especially anxious from being constrained. He only managed to speak up with a choked cry. “Dean?”

Dean let out a sigh of relief. “You’re okay, Cas. Just a nightmare.” Dean climbed off of Castiel carefully, helping to sit him up and rub his back.

Castiel’s breath became heavy in his chest, and he couldn’t help the tears from rolling down his cheeks. He reached up for Dean, now more than ever wishing that he could see Dean’s soul again. As a human, he could only see Dean’s physical appearance, which was still lovely but Castiel wanted reassurance that Dean was actually healed. Not the horrible monster he had seen in his nightmares.

“Cas?” Dean asked uncomfortably when Cas’ hand found his cheek.

“Sorry.” Castiel apologized, withdrawing his hand quickly. “I just wanted to make sure you were still… You.”

Dean moved closer to Cas, curious by his statement. “What do you mean?”

Castiel hesitated, still afraid that Dean would lash out at him like in his dream. The dream had been all too real, and Castiel was wary. “In my dream, you were a demon again. And Naomi was there, and Metatron. And… It was horrifying. I just wanted to check to see that you were still human.”

Dean sat, puzzled but concerned. Castiel still breathed thickly, holding back tears as he spoke.

“But… It is not like it matters, right? I’m not an angel anymore, I cannot see inside of you. I cannot see your soul anymore, I am just ordinarily human. I am useless.” Castiel’s voice gave in, and he shriveled forward in a mess of tears.

“Cas, you don’t need any of that angel stuff.” Dean soothed, rubbing Castiel’s back again.

“I do! I need my wings, Dean. Because without them, I’m no longer needed. How long do I have until you and Sam realize that? How long until you kick me out again because I am only extra weight that you and Sam cannot carry?” Castiel asked, turning to look at Dean with fearful eyes.

Dean sat back, dumbfounded. “Cas, how could you say that? We would never kick you out again. I know… I know last time you were here I kicked you to the curb, but that was a mistake and I’m doing what I can to make it up to you. The powers that you had as an angel were never the sole reason we kept you around, Cas. You’re our friend, you’re _my_ friend. Hell, you’re family.”

“You don’t need me anymore. I’m not meant to be a human, Dean. And I will fail you, as I always do. It seems as though that is all I am good for, screwing things up. But I can’t do that again. Because this time, I don’t have any mojo to clean up my inevitable mess.” Castiel turned away from Dean, gathering himself as he spoke. The dream he had, although horrible and terrifying, had shed light on the truth. Without his wings, Castiel was nothing but a burden.

“ _Castiel._ ” Dean hissed, and Castiel flinched at the use of his full name. Dean grabbed him by the shoulders and made Cas look at him, even in the darkness. “Don’t you _dare_ think that you are any less important to me now that you’re human. You gave up your last shot of being an angel so that _I_ could live. You have given up _everything_ for me, Cas. And I will be in your debt until the day I cease to exist. I need you, Cas. I don’t know how many times I have to say that before it gets through to you. Without you and Sam, I have nothing to live for.”

Tears continued to fall down Castiel’s cheeks and he had no idea how to respond to Dean’s words. Dean sighed, pulling Castiel against him. Castiel fell comfortably against Dean’s chest, weeping into the crook of his neck. His hands gripped tightly to the back of Dean’s shirt, and Dean wrapped his arms around Castiel.

Dean did his best to comfort Castiel, dragging his hand up and down Cas’ back. They didn’t speak again after that, falling asleep against each other and slumping down onto the mattress. Their conversation wouldn’t continue beyond that, but they both would sleep soundly and dreamlessly for the first time in weeks.


	5. Chapter 5

_"You will remember the frenzy, the pulling, the fury, the love._

_The love_

_the love_

_the love,_

_how it set your bones aflame,_

_how it no longer seemed a surprise to your_

_biblical heart that the devil chose his_

_own fire over god—_

_oh how you loved your own nakedness against his,_

_and now you know why eve chose the whole earth over heaven.”_

_— Salma Deera, EVE_

As Sam had foretold, he left that Saturday. With a bag packed and the keys to Castiel’s pimp car, he was off. Dean wouldn’t let him take the impala, grumpy as usual. He said a heartfelt goodbye to his brother, but had no words beyond that. Dean wished to be following his brother out the bunker, to ride in the impala on their way to a hunt. He desperately ached for that normalcy. But it would have wait.

After Castiel’s nightmare a few days prior, Dean and Castiel had almost avoided each other. It was mostly Dean who was doing the avoiding there. Their conversation that night had seemed to patch up any wounds between them. And yet they both remained silent.

A part of Dean’s reasoning for staying distant went beyond their conversation. He was edgy. Having spent so much time in the bunker was beginning to take its toll on him, as was the little amount of sleep he was getting.

With the unexplained awkwardness between them, Dean had been “accidentally” falling asleep on the couch or in the library to avoid going back to their bed.

It was confusing, Castiel felt. He didn’t know why Dean was driving a wedge between them, and yet he was and there wasn’t much Castiel could do about it but give Dean his space.

Dean hated himself for avoiding Castiel. He didn’t have a real reason, and Castiel was just as fragile as he was. They needed each other, but every time Dean looked at Castiel, he was overcome with guilt.

Guilt, because of what Castiel had done for Dean. Castiel was dealing with his own demons now, all thanks to Dean. Castiel gave up his grace, the most precious thing in the universe to him, for Dean. And there was nothing Dean could do to repay him.

Often, Dean lost himself thought, only to come to with his fists clenched or trembling. At first, he thought it was exhaustion. Between nightmares and the stress of feeling like an enclosed rat in the bunker, Dean played it off as just being stressed.

But it went deeper than that. The nightmares he had were getting worse, so bad that he was sleepwalking more than ever. Waking up in various places of the bunker with no explanation as to how he got there, Dean felt like he was losing his mind.

He wanted to get out! To do something in the real world. But he was on lockdown. Even if Cas and Sam hadn’t said anything, Dean knew Sam must have told Cas to keep watch while he was gone. Dean wished that they would stop looking at him as if he was a ticking time bomb waiting to explode.

Sunday was uneventful, Dean and Cas tiptoeing around each other and keeping themselves busy with mundane tasks. Sunday blended into Monday, and the day went exactly the same. Dean was rather lazy both days. Exhausted mentally and physically, he sat around and didn’t do much.

During the late evening of Tuesday night, Dean had asked Castiel for help with moving furniture in his room. He was so bored and jittery that even renovating seemed more appealing than sitting around. It was awkward, but Castiel obliged without complaint.

When Dean had leaned down to pick up the bed frame, his hands were shaking so bad that Castiel made him put the wood down to prevent injury.

“Are you alright, Dean?” Castiel asked, stepping toward him.

“I’m fine.” Dean snapped, turning around to move some of the guns and knives hung on the walls. “I drank coffee earlier and now my hands are shaky. It’s fine.”

Castiel knew he was lying. There hadn’t been a mug of coffee brewed all day. But he didn’t press it. It would only piss Dean off to be asked about his feelings.

But Dean couldn’t run from the impending meltdown. Conditions were worsening. He wasn’t eating. _I’m just not hungry right now._ He hissed at Castiel when he offered Dean half of his sandwich on Wednesday but was refused. _I showered earlier._ Dean responded on Thursday when Castiel hinted to him that the showers were open for him if he wanted. But he hadn’t showered earlier, in fact he hadn’t showered in two days. He barely got off of the couch. _I just woke up from a nap. I’m fine, Cas. I’m not a baby, you don’t have to look after me like one._ He spat when Castiel had told him he should go get some sleep on Friday night.

Castiel was worrying. He was tempted to call Sam, to ask for advice. Dean was distant, cold. There was something visibly wrong with him and yet he refused to open up about it.

Castiel went to bed that Friday night wishing Dean was lying next to him. But he understood Dean’s need for space, and didn’t want to invade. Although, it was getting to the point that Castiel worried he soon would have no choice but to intervene.

Something woke up Castiel that night, some kind of shattering noise that came from outside of the bedroom. From the moment his eyes opened, there was a feeling of unease in his gut. He climbed out of the bed and stealthily walked down the hallway.

The only light in the bunker was that coming from the bathroom. The door was shut, but Castiel heard rustling on the other side

“Dean?” Castiel called softly.

No response. It was dead silent on the other side. Panic settled inside of Castiel.

“I’m coming in, Dean.” Castiel declared, worried.

The door wasn’t locked, and Castiel was lucky for that after witnessing what was on the other side.

Dean sat with his back to the wall, huddled over and trembling. There was half a bottle of spilled whiskey laying on the ground, and Castiel cursed his stupidity for not thoroughly inspecting the bunker for alcohol.

But the most alarming thing was not the sobs escaping Dean’s lips, or the bottle of whiskey that was spilling everywhere, but the pocket knife in Dean’s hand that he used to carve into his arm.

Castiel shot forward, kneeling in front of Dean in desperation. He grabbed for the knife, and fought against Dean’s struggle. When Castiel caught Dean’s eyes his own, he almost felt like running. They were still green, but vacant. Like Dean wasn’t really there with him. He had been crying, but now his face was stony as he fought against Castiel.

Castiel managed to pin Dean to the ground, his drunkenness giving Castiel the advantage. The panic that followed suit went by in a haze. Dean was frozen on the floor, blinking in confusion as his blood got everywhere. Castiel ripped his shirt off, using it to apply pressure to the wounds on Dean’s forearm.

Quickly, Castiel undressed Dean, getting him beneath the cold water streaming from the shower head. Dean came to his senses soon after, beginning to groan and whimper in pain. Still, no one spoke. Castiel worked hastily, drying Dean and wrapping him in towels. His previous clothes were soiled in blood and alcohol.

Dean’s nakedness meant nothing as Castiel uncovered Dean’s forearm and went to bandage it. The word _MONSTER_ was carved in with thick gashes. They wouldn’t need stitches, it appeared. Castiel wordlessly bandaged Dean’s arm, doing his best to wipe the few tears that attempted to fall. Dean watched him intently, leaning as though he wanted to say something but just couldn’t. His eyes were drooping, and once his arm was wrapped, Castiel led him back to their room.

He helped put some pants onto Dean, and then laid him down onto the bed. Castiel even tucked Dean in, still no words spoken. It wasn’t until Castiel stood up to go clean up that Dean finally spoke.

“Cas.” Dean choked, reaching out and wrapping his arm around Castiel’s wrist. “I’m sorry.”

Castiel shook his head, hating how vulnerable emotions made him. He wanted to gather Dean in his arms and hold him, but he just couldn’t get the image of him drunk and sitting on the bathroom floor surrounded in a devils trap painted from his own blood. It was sickening, but Castiel still felt horrible for Dean. And yet his mouth went dry and his stomach curled inward as he stood in front of Dean. What was he supposed to say?

Instead, Castiel settled for leaning and pressing his lips to Dean’s forehead gently. Dean shuddered beneath him, reaching out for Cas. But Castiel pulled away reluctantly, turning around and walking out of the bedroom. He heard Dean weeping as he left, but did not turn around to comfort him.

Castiel walked stone-faced to the bathroom. It was surreal, the events that had just taken place. It had not fully processed inside of Castiel what just happened. But he stopped at the hallway closet and pulled out some rags, a mop, cleaner, and a bucket. And he walked with his chin up to the bathroom.

The entire scene was gruesome. Blood everywhere, clothing strewn, and alcohol spilled. It reeked of whiskey and iron, and Castiel wrinkled his nose in disgust.

Castiel started with the walls, scrubbing away splatters that had been created from Dean struggling against Castiel. Then, he mopped up the whiskey spill and tossed what was left in the bottle. Dean was shit-faced when Castiel found him, and his relapse made Castiel angry.

Last, came the puddle of blood next to the tub, and the painted devil’s trap. Castiel thought it was strange, but then realized that in a drunken haze most likely brought on from self-loathing, Dean probably made an attempt to trap himself. Confused and disoriented, Dean must have thought he was still a demon, which made him carve the word _MONSTER_ into his arm and draw a devil’s trap around himself.

Castiel scrubbed the blood away with soapy water. During the whole chore, Castiel had not shown a single ounce of emotion. But now, as the thought of what Dean must have been feeling in order to do such a horrible thing, he felt his chest beginning to ache and his body starting to heave.

Tears spilled onto the wet floor, and Castiel had to sit back and take a deep breath. But it was no use, because he was soon sobbing uncontrollably.

He felt helpless. What could he do about this? Dean was slowly fading away, getting worse and worse. But there was _nothing_ Castiel could do. He gave him support as best as he could, offering comfort and friendship. And yet, Dean’s problems were his inner battles.

Castiel wished more than anything that he could reach inside of Dean’s aching chest and mend his soul like he had once before. But he was human, and his grace had been used to successfully cure Dean from being a demon. Castiel only wished he could do more, because if Dean was truly falling apart, losing his grace would have been for nothing and he would have to learn to live without Dean too.

Eventually Castiel pulled himself together and finished cleaning. Once the bathroom seemed in order again and the blood beneath Castiel’s fingers had dried, he trudged back to their bedroom. Dean was asleep, breathing heavily beneath a mess of blankets.

Castiel allowed his eyes to close as he laid beside Dean. He did not allow himself to touch or get close to Dean. Instead he just faced Dean’s back, heart hurting for the man beside him.

At some point between sleep and consciousness, Castiel felt Dean move towards him. He wiggled his way in until his back was against Castiel’s chest. Castiel didn’t resist, instead he just moved closer to him and slung an arm lazily around his waist.

Sleep was restless and yet peaceful at the same time. Knowing that they would have to talk about this tomorrow made Castiel uneasy, but having Dean so close to him now made everything else seem irrelevant.

The next morning, Castiel woke up in an empty bed. He had slept fairly well, but that meant nothing now because of the sheer panic he had when realizing Dean was gone.

Castiel shot up out of bed. Everything in their room seemed in place, so Castiel doubted Dean took anything and actually left the bunker. Still, Castiel walked out of the room with purpose in his step.

Castiel looked everywhere, and there was no Dean to be found. That was, until he made his last stop in the kitchen. Dean was sitting at the table, a cup of coffee in front of him and his head held in his hands. If Castiel didn’t know better, he would say Dean had fallen asleep. But it was more likely that he was suffering from a horrible hangover.

With a deep breath of relief and no words, Castiel walked towards the fridge. He pulled out some butter and jelly, and then went to the bread box for the loaf that sat in there. He put four pieces in the toaster, two for him and two for Dean. After they were cooked, he put the butter and jelly on them and sat in a plate in front of Dean.

“I’m not hungry, Cas.” Dean whispered, not lifting his head from his hands.

“You need to eat. You’re hung over and have experienced tremendous blood loss so-“

“Cas,” Dean nearly growled. He lifted his head slightly to look at Castiel sitting before him. In only sweatpants and a random T-shirt Dean had given him a few weeks ago, his hair messy from sleep and his eyes hard and filled with an array of different emotions, Dean nearly backed down. It was surreal to see a once high and mighty angel, now so human. “I said I’m not hungry.”

Castiel sat back, crossing his arms. He chewed at his lip and turned his head away from Dean’s hard glare.

“I found you, you do understand that, don’t you?” Castiel spoke carefully, turning his head to look back at Dean. Dean lifted his head from his hands again in confusion. “I heard the whiskey bottle hit the ground and shatter. I woke up and found you in the bathroom. It was like a murder scene. There was blood everywhere and it reeked of metallic and alcohol. I had to fight you to get the knife out of your hand.”

Dean slowly sat up straight, listening now. Castiel huffed out a bitter laugh, but it faltered. His eyes were burning red and threatening to spill over.

“It was terrifying. It was as though you weren’t even there, like you were trapped in your head or something. But I had to strip you down and put you in the shower. I had to wake you up from whatever alcohol-and-blood-loss induced trance you were in. I had to bandage up the cuts on your forearm that spelled _MONSTER._ I had to dress you and put you to bed. I had to walk away from you even though you were crying for me to stay because I was so _numb_. I hadn’t even fully processed what just happened but I couldn’t look at you without almost breaking down.”

Castiel let his tears fall now, not caring if it would make Dean think less of him.

“I had to clean it all up, because I would never make you do such a thing. And If Sam were to have come home early today, it would have killed him to see the devil’s trap made out of your blood on the bathroom tiles. So I did it. I washed it all away and cleaned up the glass. And I did it weeping, because Dean, what else is there to do when someone you care about has done such a horrific thing?”

Dean felt guilt nestle heavily into his chest. Castiel was furiously trying to wipe away tears, attempting to gather himself but it was futile.

“I know this sounds selfish. It was you who broke, but I have to pick up the pieces. I don’t look lowly on you now, Dean. I’m not asking questions, I’m not locking you in a mental hospital. I only wish to help. So if by trying to help I ask you to eat something, please don’t make things more difficult.”

Castiel wiped away the last of his tears and stood up, taking a deep breath. Dean didn’t say anything, just looked down at the plate before him. He picked up the toast and ate it, just as Castiel returned with the first aid kit.

Without any emotion or words, Castiel picked up Dean’s arm and unwrapped the blood stained bandages. Dean watched guiltily as Castiel cleaned the cuts up. He put Neosporin on the shallow gashes and applied a different set of bandages. Dean only hissed in pain or whimpered every now and then. Castiel held a stony face the entire time. Once he finished, he put away the first aid kit back beneath the sink and picked up his plate of uneaten food.

Castiel walked out of the kitchen and back to the bedroom. He felt Dean’s eyes burning holes on the back of his head, and did not turn around.

It wasn’t that Castiel didn’t want to see Dean. In fact, he wished for nothing more than to spend the entire day trying to show Dean how important and righteous he is. Not the monster he thinks he is.

Castiel was no stranger to grief and pain, but this was different. It hurt so much look at Dean and not be able to help him. He was stubborn and hard-headed, and would only shut down if Castiel tried to talk to him. Castiel did what he could and hoped that Sam would know how to help when he got back.

It was only an hour later that Sam texted Castiel saying it would be another few days until he got back. Something about the nest of vampires being bigger than they had originally thought. Castiel responded saying they’d be fine. There was no need to bring up what happened to Dean the night before. It would only stress Sam out, and couldn’t afford that kind of stress on a hunt.

Dean didn’t come back to his room all day. He must have put on a shirt when he woke up that morning because he was wearing one in the kitchen and wouldn’t need to come grab clothes.

Castiel laid in bed mostly. He got up and showered at around one in the afternoon. In his regular white dress shirt and dress pants, he sat in the library for awhile. Dean was probably in the garage or in the living room. Either way, they didn’t see each other all day.

Castiel hated that they were avoiding each other each other. He felt like they should be in on another’s company right now, especially after Dean’s traumatizing night. Castiel wondered if being apart was a good idea after their one sided conversation this morning.

He had been angry, sure. Pissed at Dean refusing to eat. Pissed that Dean had gotten shit-faced last night after weeks of sobriety. Pissed at how Dean looked at himself. As if he was still the monster they cured so long ago. It was frustrating, no doubt. But how else was he supposed to feel?

Castiel felt sad too. Sad for Dean and how broken he was. But Castiel didn’t look at Dean’s brokenness negatively. He had been through way too much in his life to have gotten out unscathed. Still, Castiel hated the pain Dean had to go through, and it was depressing to watch your friend slowly fall downhill.

But regardless, there was nothing Castiel could do. It was not that long ago that Castiel could have wiped away Dean’s pain with only the touch of his finger to Dean’s forehead. Castiel felt useless now, that he couldn’t help Dean. Dean didn’t want Castiel’s help most of the time anyways, and it was immensely frustrating.

Castiel spent the entire day stuck between wanting to go find Dean to hug him or talk to him, and being angry at the world.

When night time was around the corner, Castiel gave up trying to focus on various books in the library, and headed to the bedroom. He still hadn’t seen Dean, and wondered briefly if Dean would even come to bed that night. It’s not like they were fighting, just giving one another space. But Castiel wouldn’t mind if Dean came to sleep next to him like they had the night before.

Their bedroom was empty, and Castiel walked in without any idea of what to do. It wasn’t late enough for sleep, and Castiel wasn’t that tired. There was a T.V. set up, but Castiel was never fond of television shows. He never quite understood what was so enjoyable about fiction. But he could enjoy documentaries, if their facts were correct.

As he stood in the middle of the bedroom, unsure of what to do, he heard the door open behind him. He whipped around to find Dean standing there, hair still wet from most likely a shower. What made Castiel’s eyes widen was that Dean was standing there in only a pair of boxers.

“Dean-“ Castiel went to ask, but his words were cut off by Dean’s lips.

Dean rushed forward, hands placed on the sides of Castiel’s head to pull him closer. Castiel gasped into Dean’s mouth, taken aback by the sudden contact.

The closeness between them reminded Castiel of his dream not too long ago. Intimacy with Dean still remained a thought not pondered widely on. Dean’s fondness for women made Castiel’s feelings shut down. Not that he minded too much, if Dean didn’t want Castiel, then there was no reason for Castiel to pine after him.

But here now, Dean had come onto Castiel. It was entirely unexpected, and it took several moments of Dean prodding and kissing hard until Castiel reacted.

It was wrong for them to do this. Castiel knew that. He should have pulled away or shoved. After a day of not seeing each other, after last night’s events, after a week of tip toeing around each of other for absolutely no reason, Castiel should have demanded Dean to explain the sudden change of heart.

Castiel didn’t mind the thought of doing things like this with Dean, but he didn’t want it to be like this.

Even still, Castiel found himself shuddering beneath Dean’s prying lips, and he gave in. Castiel wasn’t completely ignorant to romantic relations, but it had been so long and he still had very little experience. His night with April had been his one and only time, and it was simple and formal. No heat, no rush, no passion. His fling with Meg never went farther than a kiss, but it was closer to what was happening between him and Dean now than the night with April.

Dean was skilled, kissing fiercely and demandingly. It was new to Castiel, but he caught on quick. He pushed aside his morals and thoughts for a moment, allowing himself the pleasure of finally kissing Dean.

But things shifted quickly, and Castiel couldn’t tell if it was for better or for worse. Dean pushed him back slightly, keeping their lips together. He sat Castiel down onto the bed, tongue and lips trailing down his neck. Castiel was in a haze still from the intensity of the kiss, that he didn’t fully comprehend what was happening when Dean pulled away and fell to his knees in front of Castiel.

Castiel gasped when he felt Dean’s hands grab at his belt. He should have pushed Dean away, he should have told him no. Not because he didn’t want to or that he wasn’t okay with it, but because it just didn’t feel _right._

But Dean moved too fast, because just as Castiel went to grab Dean’s hands to make him stop, Dean had his pants unzipped and open. As soon as Dean’s hands were on Castiel, even over his boxers, Castiel was lost again.

Dean wasted no time before pulling Castiel out of his boxers. With a few pumps of his hand, he leaned over and took him in his mouth.

Castiel was gasping and hissing in pleasure, taken completely off guard. He knew they were crossing a line, that he should stop Dean. But Dean’s mouth around his cock felt unexplainably good, and Castiel found himself unable to move properly.

Dean moved up and down, taking almost all of Castiel in his mouth. It was impressive for a man who was known for receiving instead of giving. Castiel was shaking in euphoria, and when Dean reached for his hand and placed it on the top of his head to bury in his hair, Castiel’s head fell back and his eyes shut.

This feeling was so much better than what he could remember of his night with April. He knew he was coming close, and it felt so good that Castiel could have cried. But at some point as he was nearing the edge, he came back to his senses.

“Shit.” Castiel said suddenly, realizing the depth of this situation. In a swift but panicked movement, he pushed Dean away. Dean fell to the ground, confused and dazed. Castiel was breathing heavily, eyes wide. They both just stared at each other for a few moments before Dean was back up at his knees and attempting to take Castiel in his mouth again.

“Dean.” Castiel said, hands on his shoulders. Dean didn’t respond, only leaning down again. Castiel pushed him back gently. “No, Dean.”

Dean stood, straddling Castiel without warning. He pressed their lips together furiously, but Castiel pulled away. “C’mon Cas, I can make you feel good.”

“Dean, I said-“ Castiel began but was interrupted by Dean’s lips on his, and his hands around Castiel’s cock. Castiel was overcome with sensation, but quickly regained control. “Dean, I said _no_.”

Castiel pushed Dean completely off him, and Dean kneeled back on the ground with his head hanging low. Castiel sat, unsure of how to address this.

“Why not?” Dean asked, looking up. His eyes were red and his lips were pink and raw. “Do you not find me attractive? I mean I know I’m not as young as I used to be-“

Castiel climbed off the bed, disregarding that his pants were undone, and kneeling in front of Dean. “Of course I find you attractive, Dean. I think you’re the most beautiful being I’ve ever had the pleasure of laying my eyes on.”

“Is it because I was a demon? Or of what happened last night? Is it because it would be blasphemy, because we just shouldn’t? Do you not want me?” Dean rambled, leaning towards Castiel. He grabbed at Castiel’s shirt, aching for touch.

“None of that, Dean, would stop me from wanting you. I want you, I do. I want you more than anything.” Castiel reassured. “But… This isn’t right. It was random and unexpected, and I didn’t even know you felt that way about me until now. I don’t think you want this as much as you think you do, Dean. I think you’re just looking for some relief and as much as I wouldn’t mind giving that to you, it isn’t right.”

Dean gasped as tears fell from his eyes. “Cas… Cas I want this. I want you, I do. I swear I do.”

Castiel pressed a kiss to Dean’s temple and shook his head. “No you don’t, Dean. Not like that, not yet.”

“No, listen. I just… It’s been so hard lately. Ever since the cure, my head has been a mess. I’m stuck in this bunker with nothing to do, and it’s like the walls are closing in on me. All I feel is pain. And Cas, you’ve been so good to me. And I know I take it for granted, I’m an asshole who doesn’t do anything but mope. I keep you awake with nightmares and treat you like shit. I know that, and I want to get better.”

Dean sat up and climbed back onto Castiel’s lap. He wrapped his arms around Castiel’s neck and leaned down so that their noses were touching.

“You’ve done so much for me, Cas. From the start you’ve given everything for me. And you deserve to feel good. And I… I just want to feel something that isn’t pain.” Dean leaned down and kissed Castiel softly. “Please, Cas. I want this, I want you.”

Castiel was torn, he didn’t want to do something Dean would hate him for later. But Dean was practically begging him for this. And if there was one thing Castiel had difficulty doing, it was denying Dean what he wanted.

“Okay.” Castiel whispered when Dean pulled away slightly. They looked into each other’s eyes for a few moments before Dean slammed his lips desperately onto Castiel’s.

Dean wasted no time, hands reaching up for the buttons on Castiel’s shirt. Castiel allowed him to take it off so that they were both bare chested. Castiel stood then, picking up Dean as he went. He might not be an angel anymore, but he was still stronger than average.

Placing Dean onto his back on the bed, Castiel took off his pants and boxers. Dean shimmied out of his, reaching for Cas and pulling him down on top of him. They both groaned at the contact, lips meeting once again.

Having Dean below him, consumed by pleasure and want, was something Castiel wanted to hold onto forever. Sex was something he never yearned for with Dean. But as they were intimate now, Castiel wished they had figured this out earlier.

Dean opened his legs for Castiel, inviting him in. He reached down for Castiel’s cock, taking it in his hand and making him hard again. Dean lined Castiel up with his hole, encouraging Castiel to move forward.

“Dean, have you ever…” Castiel asked, wary.

“No, not like this. It’s fine though.” Dean said, reaching for Castiel again.

Castiel stayed still, not convinced. He observed how Dean’s sweat sheened skin quivered nervously. He also noticed that Dean himself was not hard at all.

“Dean, I believe there is some preparation needed.” Castiel said, feeling like something wasn’t right here.

“I said its fine, Cas.” Dean assured, annoyed.

Castiel squinted down at Dean and shook his head. “No, it’s not. I’m not an expert but I’m not an idiot. Condoms, lubricant, preparation. Without those things, I can’t do this.”

Dean sat up on his elbows, eyes angry. “You said you would.”

“I agreed to make this enjoyable for the both of us.” Castiel said, head cocking to the side. “I won’t hurt you, Dean. This isn’t a punishment.”

Dean stared at Castiel in disbelief, anger fading into surrender. He took a deep breath and nodded. “Okay.”

“Do you still want this, Dean?” Castiel asked, leaning back over Dean. Dean reached up for Castiel’s face and nodded eagerly.

“Of course.” Dean responded. “It’s all in the bed side table drawer.”

Castiel gathered all of what was needed. Dean looked nervously at Castiel as he set it all on the bed beside them. Castiel made it his goal to make Dean feel as good as he possibly could. If Dean’s true intentions had been to make this painful, then Castiel would do his best to worship Dean.

Castiel connected their lips again but not for long. He trailed kisses and dragged his tongue over and around his neck. Dean must have been really sensitive there, because he shivered beneath him.

“You’re beautiful, Dean.” Castiel appreciated, kissing lightly across Dean’s collar bone. When Castiel got to the edge of his left shoulder, he saw the familiar hand print still etched into Dean’s skin. He had almost forgotten that it was there, but wasted no time placing his hand over it.

Dean shuddered and moaned so loudly that Castiel nearly jumped, it took him off guard. They both looked at each other then, and Castiel smiled proudly. He pressed his lips to the print and watched Dean continue to moan, his back arching in pleasure.

“Was this always like this?” Castiel asked.

“Not when I first had it. Ever since I got it when you cured me, it’s been pretty sensitive.” Dean said, gasping between each few words as Castiel’s tongue traced over the outline.

“Interesting.” Castiel said, continuing to trail kisses downward. He pressed his lips everywhere, whispering words of praise as he went.

Dean was already a mess of moans and sensation by the time Castiel got to his dick. It was hard now, and Castiel wasted no time taking Dean in his mouth. Castiel had never done such a thing, but realized that he enjoyed it. Dean sat up as Castiel took him all the way in his mouth and throat. He groaned as the wet heat of Castiel’s mouth surrounded him.

But Castiel didn’t waste time on giving a blow job and in only a few minutes he pulled off with a popping noise. Dean fell back onto the bed, trembling. But Castiel didn’t move upward, instead he opened Dean’s legs and kept going down.

“What are you-“ Dean asked, but was interrupted by his own deep moan as Castiel’s tongue did things that made his eyes water. “Oh my God.”

Castiel pressed his tongue in and out of Dean’s hole as he reached for the lube, pouring some into his hand. Dean was a mess, and got louder as Castiel pressed a finger inside of him. Slowly, Castiel pumped his finger in and out. He added another finger soon after, and then a third. Dean was resistant at first, but the pain moved quickly into pleasure and he was soon incoherent.

“Cas, I need you.” Dean groaned out, reaching for Castiel. Castiel sat up, tearing open the condom and putting it on. He poured more of the lube onto himself, and leaned back over Dean to press their lips together.

“Are you ready?” Castiel asked, wanting to make sure. Dean nodded, pulling Castiel closer to him.

Castiel lined himself up with Dean, still kissing and sucking hickeys all over his neck. With a quick and gentle thrust of his hips, Castiel pushed inside of Dean. Both of them gasped, Dean hissed in pain, but it transitioned into a moan. Castiel waited for the word, but Dean began squirming.

“Keep going.” Dean pleaded, eyes wet with determination. Castiel complied, but he worried that Dean was not ready. Dean moved below him, desperate for the sensation.

Castiel went slow, but Dean moved so that he had no choice but to increase his speed. He pulled out of Dean suddenly, and Dean hissed at the loss. His eyes opened and he looked for an explanation.

Castiel laid onto his back, and pulled Dean with him. “Dean, I want you on top.”

Dean hesitated, not sure how he felt about being in control. But he complied, kneeling over Dean. He grabbed Castiel’s cock and lined it up with himself, and then sat down. Dean’s head fell back, and he let out a string of curse words. He sat still for a little bit, shaking and heaving on top of Castiel.

It didn’t take long until Dean was grinding up and down, chasing after a release that was so close. Castiel put his hands on Dean’s hips, moving with him as he went. With Dean above him, Castiel admired just how perfect Dean was. It was a sight to be seen, Dean riding him desperately.

“I’m close.” Dean said, voice broken and abused from the noises he was making. Castiel nodded in agreement.

“Me too.”

Dean fell forward, lips on Castiel’s. Castiel thrust upward with Dean, both so close.

Castiel came first, with an unexpected shout and his hips stuttering. Dean followed soon after, face buried in the crook Castiel’s neck as he sobbed through his release. They both just laid there for a while in a comfortable silence. Castiel traced patterns on Dean’s back and caressed the handprint on his shoulder. Dean played with Castiel’s hair or left his hand on his chest. They were tranquil.

Eventually, Castiel pulled away. He took the condom off and threw it into the trash. Dean, sore and exhausted, climbed beneath the blankets and waited for Castiel to return. Castiel turned off the lamp on the bedside table and met Dean beneath the sheets. They curled into one another, comfortable in their nakedness.

Castiel was careful of Dean’s arm, which still remained wrapped in bandages. He pressed a kiss to Dean’s lips. Dean’s eyes were no longer stone cold and determined. He was soft, content with lying next to Castiel.

“Why?” Castiel asked, laying on his stomach, he looked over at Dean. Dean, who was laying on his back and staring at the ceiling.

“What do you mean?” Dean asked, looking over at Castiel.

“Why did we just…” Castiel went quiet, not sure what to call it.

Dean looked away, shrugging. “I don’t know.”

“That isn’t true.” Castiel responded knowingly.

Dean shrunk beneath Castiel’s gaze. “I just wanted to.”

Castiel shook his head. “I enjoyed it, Dean. I did. I liked having you in that way. Kissing you, feeling you… Those are things I have always dreamed of doing. But… Despite your insistence, I can’t help but feel like we didn’t have the same intentions.”

“Cas, don’t say that. I liked it too, I liked it in the same ways.” Dean responded, eyes squinting in confusion.

Castiel huffed. “You would think by now you’d understand that I can tell when you’re lying.”

Dean and Castiel stared at each other for a few moments before Dean gave in, sighing. “I don’t know Cas, okay? I woke up this morning feeling like a pile of shit. I fucked up last night, and I didn’t realize how much it affected you until you came into the kitchen this morning and told me. And then I felt worse.”

Dean paused, letting out a shaky breath. “I meant what I said. You…You help. You keep me sane, you always bring me down from that ledge. And I spent this entire day not sure what to do. Part of me wanted to apologize, to say I’m sorry until my voice went hoarse. Another part of me wanted to get drunk again. But seeing you hurt because of me, I felt so guilty. And I wanted to make it up to you somehow.”

“Dean-“ Castiel began, but Dean interrupted him.

“You give so much for me, Cas. And all I repay you with is more pain. So I wanted to give you something else.” Dean said, looking at Castiel with big eyes. He found his hand beneath the blanket and intertwined their fingers.

“So was this only a favor to return?” Castiel asked, uneasy.

“No! It’s more than that.” Dean said. “Look, I’m really shitty with this ‘sharing your feelings’ shit, but I can’t deny that I need you, Cas. You and Sam are all that I have. But Sam is my brother, and our relationship isn’t healthy. We love and hate too much and it complicates things. But what we have is different. What we have makes me want to try to get better.”

Castiel didn’t know how to respond, and chose to simply press his lips to Dean’s. Dean responded instantly, hand moving to Castiel’s cheek.

“I love you.” Castiel said, pressing his forehead to Dean’s. Their eyes were shut, noses brushing. “There is not a single day that goes by that I regret anything that I have done for you, Dean. Never feel guilty for being human. Humans are fragile creatures. Your soul has endured much. I healed it once, and I never questioned healing it again.”

Dean leaned in again, pressing his body against Castiel’s. “Cas.” He breathed as Castiel pressed his lips against his neck.

“For you, I would sacrifice everything.” Castiel whispered, kissing Dean again.

“Do you think we will work? I can’t give you anything, I’m a nightmare. You shouldn’t have to live out your days as a human with a train wreck like me.” Dean said, eyes suddenly welling with tears as he held onto Castiel. “I can’t give you anything you want, only heartache and promises I can’t keep.”

“The only thing I want is you, Dean. You as a human, you safe.” Castiel said, thumbs stroking away tears before they could fall.

“Okay.” Dean nodded, leaning in to kiss Castiel again. “I can do that.”

“If I can make you want to get better, then get better, Dean. No more avoiding one another, no more acting like everything is fine when it is not. Things aren’t okay, but we can make it okay. You have me completely, Dean.” Castiel said, squeezing Dean’s fingers again.

“You deserve better.” Dean responded.

“I think, that after the hell we have both gone through these past few years, I deserve to be at peace. And being at peace is being with you.” Castiel said, lips pressing soft kisses all over Dean’s face.

Dean smiled when Castiel went to kiss him “Can you believe we wasted so much time pretending? Pretending things were fine, pretending like there was nothing between us…”

Castiel shrugged. “We saved the world multiple times. I think that’s a pretty good excuse.” Dean laughed, and Castiel smiled at hearing Dean genuinely laugh.

 “Cas, I… How I feel about you…” Dean stopped, struggling to gather his words. Confessing love was always a difficulty.

“You don’t have to say it, Dean.” Castiel interrupted. “I know how you feel.”

Dean nodded, feeling guilty for not being able to say the words himself. It was not that he did not love Castiel, but that the weight of confessing it was a weight similar to the ones that had drowned him before. He loved fiercely, and too many times had that complicated things.

Castiel only pulled Dean closer to him, still careful of the bandages around Dean’s arm. He pressed a kiss to the wrapped wound.

“I’m sorry.” Dean whispered after a while. It wasn’t exactly specified as to what he was apologizing for.  Castiel only shook his head.

“Don’t apologize, Dean. Just… Don’t hurt yourself anymore.”

Dean nodded, burying his face into the crook of Castiel’s neck. It was safe there, lying next to Castiel in _their_ bed. It felt familiar, like home. They laid together for a while, wordless and yet in comfortable silence.

“Cas?” Dean asked a while later. Castiel was dozing off, but still hummed a reply.

“Yes?” He asked.

“I don’t love you.”

Castiel opened his eyes and looked at Dean, eyes wide and confused.

“I don’t love you, because love is for those with normal love stories. I don’t just love you, I need you.” Dean said, leaning in close.

Castiel smiled softly, hand tracing over the handprint on Dean’s shoulder.

“As I need you.”


	6. Epilogue

“Ours is not that of a love story.” He whispers one nights as they lay in bed, curled into one another. It was a quiet evening, both of them achy after a week’s venture in the world of the supernatural.

“Ours is not that of a love story.” Dean repeats, eyes fluttering shut as his cheek rests on Castiel’s naked chest. His head moved with Castiel’s breathing, listening to the human heartbeat beneath soft flesh.

“We are no Romeo and Juliet.” Castiel says, voice soft. Dean feels the vibrations from his rib cage against his ear. “We were never crossed by the stars, or destined to die at an inevitable fate.”

Dean reiterates Castiel’s words, watching as Castiel traces the long-healed scars etched onto his skin, moving his fingers all the way up his arm before outstretching over the handprint.

The Mark of Cain has been gone for years now. The only markings Dean carries are scars, created by himself, Castiel, or whatever monster they hunted that week. But still, sometimes after a hunt that came too close to severely harming either Sam, Castiel, or himself, Dean thinks he can almost feel the empty spot on his forearm burning.

It is nights like those, nights where he almost forgets that he is human and that Castiel is human too, and that Sam is alive and well, that he feels himself slipping. It is those nights that Castiel is by his side, murmuring the familiar vows they both memorized. And it helps.

“We are simply, whole-heartedly, and completely, two souls bound by the same fire, extinguished by the same grace.” Castiel says, hand lacing in Deans, fingers fondling the silver band on Dean’s finger.

 Dean had thought it was a stupid idea. _“Marriage is for normal people, Cas.”_ Dean had scoffed, laughing nervously when Castiel had proposed marriage.

Castiel moved into Dean’s space, lips brushing against Dean’s temple and hands caressing his hips. _“Love is not limited to ‘normal’, Dean. Your modern customs seem… Appropriate.”_

A week later, they were at the courthouse. Castiel’s vows were written in perfect handwriting on a sheet of paper. Dean’s were written sloppily on a diner napkin. Sam never let Dean live down crying in the courthouse when Castiel read his. For a month straight after the courthouse wedding, Dean made Castiel reread his vows to him every night.

“I have given up everything for you, and to you I give myself completely.” Castiel continued, voice gentle. “Even beyond the day that I cease to exist,”

“Even beyond the day that I cease to exist,” Dean repeated.

“I will love you with all that I am.”

“I will love you with all that I am.” Dean finished with one last squeeze of Castiel’s hand.

 

 

_"i cannot tell you that i love you_

_as aphrodite loved adonis, for_

_we were not born of anger, and_

_when i touch your skin it does not_

_feel like blinding heat, it feels like_

_writing the first line of a poem,_

_like breathing in the sharp_

_september air._

_(necessary. loving you feels necessary.)_

_and it’s not as though our love_

_measures itself in metal and blood_

_like that of paris and helena -_

_people will write no stories about it,_

_men will not go to war for it,_

_cities will not burn in our names._

_we are not gods, and our love will_

_never be that of myth and legend:_

_temples shall not be built in our names,_

_so we will build them ourselves_

_with soft laughter and heavy eyes -_

_we shall worship over hot toast and_

_daytime tv, the only mourning i wish_

_for us will be the sadness of_

_sliding out from morning-soft sheets_

_and our goodbyes will only ever mean_

_‘see you soon’._

_we are human, and our love will be_

_ever more beautiful for it.”_

_—     a.c (via tumblr user mhythology)_

 


End file.
